Evolution of Command
by Blackdeer7
Summary: Lakota Shepard is Earthborn/sole-survivor/Paragade. Each chapter highlights Lakota's developing relationship with a crew member and/or her romantic interest, Liara T'Soni. Takes place between ME1 & ME2. FShep/Liara. New chapter: Shep and Liara smuggle "contraband" onto the Normandy...
1. Pillow Talk

Pillow Talk

_Commander Lakota Shepard, the first human Spectre, had been tasked with apprehending a rogue Spectre, Saren. While hunting down Saren, she also uncovered a plot by the Reapers, a race of ancient machines, to eradicate all sentient life. Lakota and her crew succeeded in defeating Saren and destroying Sovereign, a Reaper scout ship. Now she and her crew are dry docked at the Citadel, a massive space station constructed over 50 millennia ago which acts as the political, cultural and financial capital for the galaxy's sentient species. Her ship, Normandy SR-1, is undergoing repairs, her crew is happy to be alive and the commander is enjoying some quiet time with her Asari lover, Dr. Liara T'Soni._

* * *

"Shepard?"

Upon hearing her name Lakota lazily woke from the drifting slumber that hadn't quite settled into sleep. "Yeah?"

"Why do you not talk about your past?"

The last nocturnal strings tying her to slumber were instantly cut. Lakota blindly reached out a hand and was rewarded with the warm, inquisitive form of her new lover lying next to her. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes to a dimly lit room and found Liara gazing down from the vantage point of a crooked arm.

"I talk about my past." Lakota felt a bit childish by the defensive response.

Unfazed by the statement, Liara continued to voice her musings. "I have noticed that most humans enjoy sharing past events with others. It seems to bring them a sense of connection. Dr. Chakwas, in particular, often engages in such self-expression. I find I enjoy hearing her stories. They allow me insight into her as an individual and give form to the events that have shaped who she is today. The rest of the Normandy crew does this as well…"

"I'm sensing a 'but'…"

"But I have also noticed that you do not participate in such story telling."

_[Crap] _

_"_My stories aren't all that interesting."

"Commander."

"Doctor?"

"I would prefer it if you left that assessment to me"

A superb read of battlefield strategy, Lakota knew if she continued on this particular line of defense that she would eventually be outmaneuvered.

_[Time to go on the offensive.] _

Slowly, she rose up on her arm in order to be face to face with the Asari scientist."My past," she said, "is nothing more than a series of events strung together which ultimately brought me to this moment. Right now. Naked. In bed. With you."

Punctuating each word with a light, lingering kiss, Lakota continued her sensual, diversionary tactic. "A brilliant (_left cheek_), passionate (_right cheek_), skillful (_forehead_), attractive (_chin_), utterly desirable…"

Liara placed a forefinger to Lakota's lips stopping them just before they made contact with hers. Then, she tilted her head inquisitively. "Are you attempting to use flattery to distract me from my questions?" She removed her finger from her lover's lips so she could answer.

"Is it working?"

"Possibly."

"Then yes."

A slight frown creased across Liara's forehead. "Do you not wish to talk about your past? Or do you not wish to talk about your past with _me_?"

Lakota felt the walls of the corner closing in. "Liara, it's not that that simple."

"I am sorry, Shepard. I am not sure I understand."

"Talking about my past isn't something I do. I've dealt with it and moved on. I don't see the point of rehashing it."

"Even if someone asks you?"

Lakota could see the see the tram and the headlight coming at her full speed. "Nobody ever asks."

With a questioning eyebrow raised, Liara persisted. "I find that hard to believe."

"I've never let anyone close enough to me to ask."

_[__Crash and burn]_

A few heartbeats passed, and then Liara looked away. Softly, she whispered, "Oh, I see."

_[Shit.]_

"Until now, that is."

"Oh, I see." The deflated tone of Liara's voice was a clear indication that she didn't quite believe the Spectre.

After a lengthy pause, Lakota took a deep breath and when her eyes found Liara's, she hesitantly confessed, "Nobody's ever asked because I've never given them a chance to ask. I think I'd like to share it with you, but it's not something I'm ready to talk about yet."

Liara's gaze lingered on Lakota, regarding her thoughtfully. "'_Yet_' implies there will be an occasion then."

An unmistakable sense of relief washed through Lakota as she softly exhaled the forgotten breath she'd held. Chuckling lightly, she said, "Just give me some time."

"As you wish, Commander," Liara replied, a sly smile curling at the corner of her lips. "Until then-" Liara gently pushed Lakota onto her back while deftly rolling her body on top, effectively straddling her lover. "...I will focus my brilliant (_kisses left cheek_), passionate (_right cheek_), skillful (_forehead_), attractive (_chin_), utterly desirable gaze upon other aspects of you."

"Didn't we have this conversation before?" Lakota playfully teased. "I thought you didn't want to dissect me."

"Commander."

"Doctor?"

"I lied."


	2. Citadel Talk

Citadel Talk

A week passed since Saren, a rogue Spectre, was defeated and Sovereign, the sentient Reaper ship he aligned with, was destroyed. The chaos and full-focused sprint to the final endgame between Command Lakota Shepard's squad and the Reaper scout ship was over. In the aftermath, was the broken, but still functional Citadel, a massive space station constructed over 50 millennia ago which acted as the political, cultural and financial capital for the galaxy's sentient species. As a nexus of the galactic community's stability, it accurately reflected the galaxy's own bruised and injured state.

Even the Citadel Council, a powerful, multi-species governing body, was marred by the battle with Saren and Sovereign. Spectres were agents of the Citadel Council and were entrusted with extraordinary authority to preserve galactic stability by whatever means necessary. Saren's betrayal was an affront to the Council to the point of their almost disbelief. Considered above the law, the only way to rein in a rogue Spectre was with another Spectre. Commander Lakota Shepard, the first human Spectre, was charged with that task. And while hunting down Saren, she also uncovered a plot by the Reapers, a race of ancient machines, to eradicate all sentient life. Lakota and her crew, with skill and a bit of luck, managed to defeat Saren and destroy Sovereign, a Reaper scout ship.

Walking through the interior of the Presidium, Commander Shepard and Dr. Liara T'Soni surveyed the damage done during that final confrontation, now dubbed "The Battle of the Citadel." The Presidium was a massive, park-like complex which contained offices for various branches of the galactic government, as well as embassies for all the races represented in the Citadel. Normally the lush, panoramic views showcased scenery bustling with activity, but because of the catastrophic wreckage caused by the Reaper ship ramming into the space station, nearly all zones of the Presidium had been quarantined and registered off-limits to personnel. Shepard's Spectre status granted her and Liara access to a restricted area tended to by the keepers: mute, spider-like alien creatures who maintained the Citadel's vital systems.

Stopping in front of a broken, small-scale model of a mass relay, Shepard carefully studied the keeper to her right which was busy fixing a bulkhead. Skeptically, she shook her head. "Knowing what I do about these machines…I don't trust them."

"Commander?" Liara questioned.

"At least the geth are upfront about their hostility. These keepers are no more than sleeper agents maintaining this space station waiting for someone or something to wake them up. And then what happens?" Lakota's voice became more intense as she continued. "Also, now that we know the mass relays are just one big spider web meant to ensnare all sentient life, why aren't we doing anything about it? We should get off our asses and start making our own relays."

"Is paranoia a trait of all good soldiers?" the Asari teased.

"Keeps us alive a lot longer." Lakota shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, well. The Council didn't listen to me before; they're not going to listen to me now. Saren and Sovereign were just figments of my imagination and this whole Citadel disaster," she spread her arms wide as if to embrace the crumpled chaos in before her, "well, that's just some sort of keeper malfunction."

Liara regarded the Spectre as though she'd lost her mind. "Commander?"

Noticing her lover's alarmed expression, Lakota shook her head while broad grin emerged on her lips. "Sorry, Liara. Human sarcasm. A way for me to safely vent my frustration. Shooting something just doesn't seem wise."

Eyebrow raised, Liara played along. "But you are a Spectre; your privileges cover random shootings."

Laughing, the Spectre quipped, "Doctor, I like the way you think."

Liara smiled softly as though pleased at hearing her lover's playful retort.

Taking a serious look at the broken landscape in front of her, Lakota stated the obvious. "This is going to take years to repair."

"Yes, but the Citadel has always been an important monument to the galactic communities and with the defeat of Saren and Sovereign, it will take on greater significance as a symbol of unified resistance. They will rebuild."

"Yeah…it's good that they have a solid foundation to build from."

The Asari sensed a shift in Lakota, but waited for the commander to speak.

"Liara, I have a serious question to ask you."

"You can ask me anything, Shepard."

"Do you have any regrets about our first night together…on our way to Ilos?"

Liara contemplated the question and its implications for a moment before answering. "While I admit the circumstances surrounding our first joining were not ideal, I have no regrets. Not one. That was the single most beautiful and in ways, profound, moment of my life, Shepard."

Lakota smiled. "For me, too."

Their eyes met, each remembering the passionate, powerful union. Even their breathing found a similar rhythm as their gazes held the peaceful moment until both were smiling at their knowledge of where the other's thoughts traveled.

"My only regret, Commander, is that I do not know you better. I do not know the events that made you into the woman who stands before me now. I know what people say. What the reports say. But I do not know any of the details from you."

Hands leaning against the railing, Lakota shifted her gaze out across the expansive, shattered Presidium. Taking a deep breath, she sighed. "You're right." Squaring her shoulders, she turned back to face her inquisitive lover and gently asked, "What would you like to know?"

The commander was a striking woman. In human terms, she was not a classic beauty, but her good-looking features carried with it a natural beauty. At five foot nine, she was taller than the average human female, and had a lithe, athletic build of someone who engaged in intense regular exercise. People were drawn in by her energy and her presence dominated the very space she stood. Her pale green eyes seemed luminescent against the backdrop of her honey tanned skin and pony-tailed, jet black hair. Her looks were marred and dually enhanced by one feature: a seven inch scar starting above the right eyebrow cutting a path down over the bridge of her nose across the left cheek and ending at the jaw bone.

A sad smile tugged at Liara's lips as she raised her right hand so her forefinger could trace the lightly faded, diagonal scar that slashed across her lover's face. "How did you get this?"

Lakota reached up to catch the Asari's hand and held it to her cheek. "Liara, my past…my childhood…it's not pleasant."

"If you would rather not…"

"No. It's not that…it's…." Lakota shook her head, dropping her lover's hand in the process. Then her eyes looked absentmindedly back out on the broken Presidium before she started again. "The funny thing about my scars- this one in particular- people always assume it's from my last note-worthy battle. Two years from now, they will undoubtedly assume I got it from my fight with Saren. Right now, they assume I got it while on Akuze. But the truth is I got it when I was on Earth. I was fifteen."

A frown passed over the Asari's face, but she only tilted her head encouraging the Spectre to continue.

"I grew up in the slums of Mexico City on Earth. By slums I mean, too many people crammed into too small a space and not enough resources for half of them. Poverty, disease, crime were engrained in my daily existence."

"And your family?"

Lakota shrugged her shoulders. "I have no family. I was raised in a Red Den." When she noticed Liara's quizzical look, she added, "A place for unwanted children."

"Unwanted…" Liara repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, as though having trouble comprehending the idea.

"I was smart, quick and learned from an early age to stay in the shadows and not draw attention to myself. By the age of six, I was a fairly talented pick-pocket and thief…good enough to join the Tenth Street Reds. Being on your own was a death sentence at that age, so if you wanted to survive you joined a gang."

Still appalled at the idea of abandoned children, Liara questioned, "You never knew your mother?"

"From what I learned, my mother was a red sand addict and sold me for drugs. Healthy babies were a commodity in the slums. And since the Den was a front for Tenth Street Red recruitment…"

The Asari scientist was incredulous. "Babies were a commodity? Children recruited?"

"There's a high mortality rate in the slums. A higher turnover rate in the gangs. There were so many unwanted kids that they were considered a ready stockpile of cheap, easily controlled labor or possible gang recruits. If you were healthy and showed potential, then you were initiated into the ranks. Over the course of years, if you survived, you were groomed to be a lieutenant."

Her lips pursed in anger, Lakota added bitterly, "And I was one of the lucky chosen,"

_A distinctive chirp sounded through the air._

Shaken out of her reverie, the Spectre tapped her earcom and responded. "Go ahead, Joker."

_"Ah, Commander? Captain, I mean Councilor Anderson is asking to see you immediately. He said it couldn't wait."_

"Did he say what it was about?"

_"No. He just muttered something about Udina and his fist."_

"10-4. Tell the Councilor I am on my way."

_"Will do, Commander."_

"Shepard out." Lakota tapped her earcom again, and then looked apologetically at Liara. "Sorry. Duty calls. We'll have to continue this later."

"Of course. Should I come by your quarters tonight?"

Lakota's stomach dropped into a pleasant oblivion. Smiling, she answered, "That sounds perfect."


	3. Quarters Talk

Quarters Talk

Commander Lakota Shepard fidgeted in her desk chair. The monitor in front of her displayed star maps of uncharted geth space, but right now her mind was not on the geth. She swiveled around in the chair surveying her room for the fifteenth time and came up with the same assessment: her quarters were nothing extravagant, but they suited her basic needs. After eleven years with the Alliance military, she was thankful for finally having two things: a comfortable bed and the luxury of privacy.

Suddenly, a chirp sounded and the doors to her quarters slid open revealing Dr. Liara T'Soni, the Asari scientist who joined the commander's crew over two months ago during the hunt for Saren.

"Commander, may I come in?"

"Absolutely, Doctor. I was just thinking about you. I assume you'd like to continue our conversation from the Citadel?"

The doors closed as Liara stepped through. She turned to lock the keypad, then swiveled back to face the commander. "Actually, no."

Unable to hide her surprise, Lakota questioned, "No?"

Liara slowly crossed the distance between them shamelessly appraising the commander each step of the way. Slyly, she intoned, "I had something more physical in mind."

Standing to meet the Asari, Lakota smiled, then demurely flirted, "I'm open to suggestions."

Eyebrow raised, Liara smirked coyly. "Are you?"

Once face to face, Liara's right hand reached up and sensuously caressed her lover's cheek. "How about this?" She leaned in so her lips lightly brushed the commander's. Parting slightly, the Asari's tongue danced out to explore the mouth too long neglected.

A low moan escaped Lakota's throat as her hands instinctively captured Liara's hips and drew her in. Body to body, they slowly stoked the fire raging between them. Hands roamed freely. Lips and tongue entwined. Neither wanted to hurry, but rather forced themselves to maintain a deliberately painful pace until their lust threatened to consume them both.

Clothing fell indiscriminately on the floor as they made their way to the bed. Desire overrode speech, instinct overrode thought, reckless abandon overrode practical physics. Their longing overwhelmed all but each other.

Clothes fully cast aside, the bed the sole berth of their universe, the blue-hued Asari and honey-tanned human continued their intimate dance of sensual arousal. Each caress lifted their desire. Each moan signaled a step further to the edge. Breathing became more labored until panting was all that remained. Until coherent thought was all but left behind.

Lying naked on top of the commander, Liara ceased all movement and looked directly, wantonly into her lover's lustful, pale green eyes. "Will you join with me, Shepard?"

"Yes," Lakota whispered in a rush, her barely contained desire carried within the aching tones of the word spoken.

The Asari race had a unique ability to merge with their partner's nervous system. This joining was an energetic melding of mind, body and spirit. Thoughts, memories and emotions become one: a unified consciousness bound together by the wants, needs and willful desire of two individual entities.

Still focused on the commander, Liara's blue eyes transformed to an obsidian hue. Her lips descended and lured Lakota's into a slow, passionate kiss that deepened with each subtle movement of the Asari's body. Each gyration signaled a deepening immersion of their now melded consciousness which spiraled blissfully toward a rapturous climax.

"Embrace eternity…"

_Much later_…

Lying on the bed, nestled in each others arms, Lakota and Liara enjoyed the peaceful aftermath of their joining. Their rhythmic breathing matched the quiet mood that had settled between them and neither moved for fear of disrupting the serenity. Even the resonate hum of the _Normandy_ added to the tranquility of the moment as the ship negotiated its way through space.

After a time, Liara's voice sounded in the silence. "Commander?"

Lazily, Lakota rolled onto her bent left arm so she had a better survey of her alluring, inquisitive lover. "Doctor?"

"I would like to continue our conversation now."

"Which conversation?" Lakota teased. "The one we just finished …"

Liara smiled. "I think we said all we needed to say on that subject. For now..."

Conceding, Lakota smirked and wistfully commented, "I guess round two will have to wait 'til later."

Turning her head on the pillow so their eyes met, Liara said, "I am curious about something, Shepard."

"What would that be?"

"The tattoo you have on your back. What is it? I have never seen anything like it before."

"It's a medicine wheel. A symbol that originates from indigenous tribes on Earth. It signifies a person's unique path in life and also the interconnectedness of all life."

Liara motioned for Lakota to lie on her stomach allowing the scientist to examine the tattoo more closely with her finger tips. "Do the different colored sections have special meaning?"

"Yes and even the colors are significant." Closing her eyes, Lakota brought the image of her tattoo to mind. "It's divided into four quadrants…four directions. Each represents an aspect of life: mental, emotional, physical, spiritual or young, adult, midlife, elder or even the seasons on earth: autumn, summer, winter and spring. Four is considered a sacred number." Delighting in the attention the blue hued hand showed to her back, Lakota sighed contentedly. "They are all bound in a circle which alludes to the connectedness of all things."

Contemplating the commander's words, Liara said, "I did not realize you had such an interest in spiritual things."

"It doesn't overshadow my life. I'm not religious in the same fashion that Ashley was. But when you break anything or anyone down to a quantum level, we're all just a bunch of energy particles roaming around."

Catching this new and unexpected side over her lover was reminiscent of being on an archeological dig and unearthing a long forgotten Prothean relic: mysterious, provocative and utterly enthralling. "You continue to surprise me, Shepard. You really do have the wisdom of a matriarch within you."

Amused by the thought, she laughed out loud. "Hah! I'm not sure about that. I did, after all, try to drive the Mako over a thresher maw. That could have turned out better." Stretching her body from finger to toe, Lakota sank into the luxury of the serene moment and into the attention given by fingers still tracing the image on her back. Sighing happily, she asked, "What about you, Liara? What wisdom has one hundred and six years brought you?"

"The Asari religion- siari, holds a very similar idea as doctrine. Every life in the universe is an aspect of the greater whole, and death is a merging of one's spiritual energy back into greater universal consciousness. While I have not thought much on this, it is, nonetheless, a comforting view." After a moment of contemplation, Liara continued, "I do feel our ability to mate with virtual any race is an indication of an innate connection throughout all life."

A comfortable silence fell between them as they each enjoyed the tranquil mood infused by the Asari's hand continuing its inquisitive journey across the ten inch tattoo accentuating the commander's backside. The multicolored medicine wheel was centered high on her back between the shoulder blades. Its circle was outlined in ivory toned antlers bound in strips of tattered brown leather. Within the wheel a red line created the north/south path and a black line created the east/west path bringing into existence four quadrants: yellow in the northeast, red in the southeast, black in the southwest and white in the northwest. Two arrows adorned with feathers, one lying in a southwest to northeast path, the other lying in a southeast to northwest path, were pictured behind the medicine wheel. Further scrutinizing the tattoo, Liara asked, "And the animal in the center?"

"That's a Bengal tiger. Extinct now on Earth, but I have a particular affinity for them."

"Do they represent something specific?"

"Strength, valor, passion, sensuality, courage."

A smile tugged at Liara's lips. "That sounds accurate." She continued to lazily trace the outline of the vivid orange and black tiger with her forefinger. "What is its significance for you?"

"To me the tiger is a symbol of the qualities I admire and hope to attain. It's a sleek and ferocious animal. A patient and silent hunter. Generally a solitary creature, but nurturing and protective of her cubs. All around a magnificent, passionate and powerful animal." Lakota contemplated a moment before continuing. "As for the tattoo, I got it when I was fifteen. At the time, I was feeling disconnected from all things. I wanted something that I could call my own and that no one could steal. A tattoo seemed like a perfect fit. The medicine wheel is about the circle of life and reminded me of the bigger picture around me. It gave me a sense of belonging. Belonging to something more than I could see, hear or touch. Still does."

Made self-conscious by her unexpected admission, Lakota said, "Damn Doctor, you sure know how to make a girl talk."

"I think I may have found your weakness, Commander." As Liara finished the sentence she lightly raked her fingers down the Lakota's back drawing out an involuntary gasp.

Shaking her head and smiling Lakota gave out rueful laugh. "Apparently you did." She rolled onto her back impishly gazing into the Asari's eyes. "Do me a favor, don't let it get around, okay?"

A sultry grin graced Liara's lips. "This will be our secret."

"One of many I hope."

"As you wish, Commander." Shifting the topic, the Asari said, "For now though, I would like to discuss your offer."

Curiosity piqued, Lakota repeated, "My offer?"

Liara provocatively leaned into Lakota, kissing her slowly, deeply. "I believe you called it 'round two'."


	4. Mako Talk

Mako Talk

The _NormandySR-1_ was docked at the Citadel space station undergoing repairs and upgrades before heading out on a new assignment. Inside the cargo bay, the M35 Mako, a small infantry vehicle, was being upgraded with the latest tactical software and weaponry. The Mako was already a force to be reckoned with as its exterior plating and environmentally sealed interior allowed it to be deployed on virtually any world. In terms of being able to pack a punch, the turreted 155mm mass accelerator cannon and coaxial-mounted machine gun made it a powerhouse for those unfortunate enough to be lined up in its tactical scope. Commander Lakota Shepard was particularly fond of this feature.

"Hah!" Lakota exclaimed. "Less than .03 deviation. Nice work, Garrus."

"Commander, it was only a .05 deviation to being with. We were already within specs.""

"No excuses. We're upgrading and recalibrating everything on the _Normandy_, which includes the Mako's sniper scope."

"Shepard, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were down here trying to avoid something or someone."

"Don't be absurd. I'm a trained infiltrator. Sniper scopes are my 'thing'."

"So that's why it took you all morning to clean and calibrate your rifle, _Styx_?"

Lakota narrowed her eyes at Garrus, but ignored his comment and continued to punch calibration formulas into her omni-tool.

The Mako's interior was small. Some would say cramped. On any given day it would adequately hold three individuals; on a good day it could hold four…if nobody was claustrophobic. Garrus Vakarian, a former C-Sec officer, was seated to the left of Lakota in what would normally be the navigator's chair. His six foot plus Turian frame fit comfortably enough in the human built vehicle. Lakota was seated inches away in the tactical chair focusing her attention on her omni-tool readout.

"Shepard. Seriously. Calibrating is what I do. You don't need to be here."

Lakota let out an exasperated sigh. "Garrus, if I am not here, then I will have to be cooped up in some room with the Citadel Council or an Alliance review board. These," Lakota raised both hands in the air and made airborne quotation marks with her forefingers, "'imperative upgrades' are the only thing saving me from that hell."

"What's so scary about the Council or the Alliance? You defeated a Reaper."

"You've forgotten your experience with bureaucracy, haven't you?"

"At least the Council can't think you're xenophobic anymore."

Lakota's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Hah! Yeah…having a Quarian, Krogan, Asari and Turian on my crew was a nice bit of savvy, political maneuvering."

"Why did you do it, Shepard? Bring on an alien crew? I don't know many humans who would have."

"Other than physical appearance and some minor toxicity issues," Lakota playfully nudged Garrus with her shoulder, "I don't see much difference between most species. We need each other to stay honest. I'm not sure you noticed, but we humans can do some pretty horrific things when left to our own devices. Trust me. I have firsthand experience."

"All races have that potential."

"Exactly. We need each other to monitor the moral playing field."

Garrus nodded. "Quarians created the Geth."

"Krogans eradicated the Rachni," Lakota countered, "almost to extinction."

Following the Spectre's lead, the Turian said, "Salarians created the genophage."

"Turians implemented the genophage."

"Batarians and the Skyllian Blitz."

Perplexed, Lakota asked, "What about the Hanar?"

"Too long winded?"

"The Elcor?"

"I don't know. Too much honesty?"

"The Asari?"

"You'd be better at answering that question then I, Commander?"

"Why's that?"

"All the time you've been spending with our Asari scientist."

Lakota raised an eyebrow. "That obvious, eh?"

Nodding his head, Garrus affirmed, "Yeah."

"Great," Lakota mumbled gruffly, although the bemused twinkle in her eyes countered any irritation.

"Really takes the thrust out of the xenophobic argument though."

"Hah…one can hope." Looking over at the Turian, Lakota said, "Do you want to know why I asked you to join my crew, Garrus?"

"You mean it wasn't because of my good looks?"

Lakota smiled, but ignored his playful comment. "I liked you. From the moment I met you, my instincts told me I could trust you. In our line of work, you learn to trust your instincts above all else. And my instincts were proven right."

"Thanks, Shepard. That means a lot."

Turning slightly, Lakota brought her focus back to the Mako's sniper targeting program.

"Can I ask you something, Shepard? And I need you to be completely honest."

"Ask away, Garrus."

"When we hunted down the Salarian doctor, Dr. Saleon, you stopped me from killing him. You made the choice to give him to the authorities. When we ran into Dr. Wayne, the scientist who performed experiments on Corporal Toombs, you killed him." Garrus looked directly at Lakota. "What's the difference?"

Meeting his piercing gaze, Lakota said, "There are a lot of differences, Garrus. But it boils down to the fact that Dr. Wayne was personal to me. Intensely personal; not just a matter of pride. I felt victimized as much as Toombs and, right or wrong, I was willing to take all responsibility for ending his life." A glint of steel was laced within her next words. "And I would do it again."

Garrus shook his head and challenged, "But Saleon murdered innocent people, as well. I don't see the logic in killing one, but not the other."

"If we had killed Saleon, you would be shouldering that responsibility, not me. Before you can make a decision like that you need to know what your core values are." Sighing heavily, Lakota continued. "You need to understand yourself well enough to know what you can handle in the long term."

"I know myself well."

Lakota shook her head in disagreement. "When you asked me what to do with Saleon, I knew you hadn't faced that demon before. If you had, you wouldn't have asked for my opinion at all." Watching the Turian closely, she added, "There is no shame in it, Garrus. Few people ask themselves such questions. I've seen many soldiers crack under the weight of the psychological guilt and remorse that taking a life can generate."

Garrus was silent a moment, as though contemplating the Spectre's words. "When did you figure it out, Shepard?"

"I was fifteen."

"Damn. What? Did you grow up in a warzone?"

Lakota shrugged her shoulders. "Of a sort."

Shaking his head, Garrus whispered, "Damn."

Pulling her shoulders back and straightening her posture, Lakota took a deep breath and then said, "The Alliance and Council don't care that I have a personal code of ethics or that I'm committed to making the galaxy a better place for all species. They don't support me because I do the most conscionable thing, because I don't. They support me because I get results and I don't crack while getting them."

She watched Garrus to make sure he heard her words. "Being a Spectre isn't about being liked or even being respected. It's about having the courage to make the hard choices, living with them and then getting up the next day and doing it all over again."

Garrus nodded his head while mulling over the new information. "So you gave Saleon to the authorities for me?"

"You could look at it that way. Or you could assume I'm a forgiving person."

Garrus smirked. "Damn, Shepard. I didn't know you cared."

"Garrus, after all we've been through, all we've seen together, you're like a brother to me. A big, metallic-skinned brother. Not the prettiest one in the family, but my brother nonetheless."

"Mom didn't teach you about verbal filters, did she?"

Lakota grinned. "Hey…what time is it?"

"Just after 15:00 GST."

"Perfect." The Spectre maneuvered her way to the middle of the Mako and knelt down near the navigation console. She slid open a twelve by six inch wall panel revealing a diminutive storage safe. Pushing some keys on the locking console, the safe popped open and she pulled out a meticulously wrapped bottle of Calvados Pere Magloire.

"What's that?" the Turian asked. He was intrigued by the care in which Lakota handled the bottle as though it was an ancient, fragile relic.

"This is a bottle of very old, very good cognac. It's made from fruit grown on Earth. In theory, your digestive system should be able to handle it." Grinning mischievously, Lakota tempted, "Feeling lucky?"

"The med lab is only an elevator ride away, let's test your theory."

Lakota pulled two small, stainless steel cups from the compartment, then set about opening the liqueur bottle. "I put this here after Peak 15. I couldn't get the image of being stranded in a blizzard in a broken down Mako out of my head, so I added this emergency ration. I grew up in a warm, arid environment. Never really took to snow. Too cold." She handed a full cup to Garrus, "Cognac will warm you up. Good cognac will make you forget you were cold in the first place."

With bottle and full cup in hand, Lakota returned to her seat at the tactical console. Turning to Garrus she raised her glass and toasted, "To be given friendship is a gift; to be given trust is an honor. Here's to friends you can trust."

Clanking his cup on Lakota's, Garrus mimed, "To friends you can trust."

They both sipped the spicy, brown liqueur that had a hint cinnamon, nutmeg and oak wandering within its palette.

Eyeing Garrus, Lakota asked, "How you feeling?"

Lifting his cup, the Turian nodded his head in approval. "Not bad, Shepard. Not bad."

Lakota was contemplative for a moment and then offered some advice. "I know where my lines are Garrus. Nobody else may see them, let alone understand them, but they exist and I am willingly to bear their responsibility. You just need to find out where your lines are drawn. And make damn well sure you believe in them." Holding Garrus still with her penetrating gaze, Lakota warned, "If you don't, they will destroy you."

Silently, Garrus nodded in agreement and took another sip.

Softening the intense mood, Lakota asked, "So…you up for sparring later on?"

Garrus sat back in his chair and cocked his head to the side assessing the human. "I don't know, Shepard."

"Come on, Garrus. I need someone who actually tries to knock me on my ass."

"What about Alenko or Tucks or Barret?"

Rolling her eyes, Lakota whined, "Everyone aboard the ship hits like a Volus. Besides you, me and Wrex, that is. It's like they're afraid they might hurt me. I need a challenge." Smirking, she added, "And Wrex isn't available."

"Hah! Alright, Shepard." Garrus looked sternly at Lakota. "But no cheating this time!"

Lakota's voice was threaded with feigned surprise. "Cheating?"

"Last time, you wore that new cloaking suit. You remember…the one you and Tali are working on. You cloaked in the middle of sparring, then undercut me."

Lakota stayed silent sipping her cognac and gave him the best "innocent" look she could muster while smirking.

"I admit," Garrus begrudgingly conceded, "it was impressive."

"Yeah, you should have seen the look on your face."

"Think you could make one in Turian size?"

"It's still in the prototype phase. Good for one cloak, then the power source dies. Need to find something more sustainable." Having more questions than answers regarding the suit, Lakota shrugged her shoulders in a catchall answer to any other questions the Turian might have. "So…what's next, Garrus?"

Confusion clouded the Turian's face. "Shepard?"

"Saren's been defeated; Sovereign destroyed…what's next on your agenda?"

In a matter-of-fact tone, Garrus stated, "It's not over, Shepard."

"I know."

Adding more tenor to his voice, Garrus stressed, "The Reapers are still coming."

Lakota stared somberly into her cup, watching the movement of the golden brown liquid. "I know, Garrus. But I also wanted you to know that you have an out."

Garrus considered Lakota's words before replying. "I'm going to see this thing through, Shepard. To whatever end, I've got your back."

Smiling wistfully, Lakota said, "That means a lot to me, Garrus."

Lifting up his cup, Garrus waited for Lakota to do the same and then he proudly toasted, "To friends you can trust."


	5. Lab Talk

Lab Talk

Commander Lakota Shepard entered the activation code on the keypad and terminated the galaxy map session. Repairs to the frigate were complete, and the _Normandy SR-1_was undocking from the Citadel to head out to deep space for a shakedown run before the next mission. Stepping off the viewing platform, she headed toward the stairwell leading to the lower habitation level. Private Tucks saluted as she stepped through the sliding doors and onto the stairs.

Lakota made her way down the winding staircase pausing when she reached the lower landing. This level held the med bay, crew pods, captain's quarters and the mess. She took a deep breath before entering the main chamber, and then headed over toward the sleeper pod control panel where Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko stood.

"Commander."

"Lieutenant. What's the ship's status?" Kaidan had been under Shepard's command since before the hunt for Saren began. He had proven himself a good soldier and a good officer. Duty and protocol came first, but when all that was put to the side, Lakota considered him a good friend, as well.

"We are prepped and ready for the shakedown run, Commander. The upgrades have been completed and all systems have been restored to full functionality."

"Good. You're in charge of overseeing all operational tests, Lieutenant. Notify me when you have reports on our stealth system and FTL drive."

"Will do, Commander."

"Carry on, Lieutenant."

Lakota turned around and headed directly over to the med bay. She slowed briefly to allow the doors time to open, then stepped through the threshold.

"Commander, to what do I owe the pleasure?" As usual, Dr. Chakwas was affable and welcoming.

"Doctor, we're heading out to deep space for the ship's fire drill, and I wanted to see how the med bay fared."

A slight grin formed at the corner of her mouth as Chakwas commented, "You could have asked over the intercom Commander."

"True, Doctor." Lakota circumvented her behavior by adding, "But I was in the area, so I thought I'd get the status update personally."

"Ah, well, in that case, the med bay is running at peak efficiency. The med beds were scanned and recalibrated while at the Citadel, supplies have been restocked and we even have some surplus of medi-gel in the storeroom…just in case of emergencies."

"Excellent news, Doctor." Lakota knew nothing escaped Chakwas' notice, especially when it came to the crew's personal life, so she opted not to curtail her true purpose for being in the med bay any longer. "Is Doctor T'Soni in?"

"Yes, Commander, she's in the lab. Although, I daresay she's been a bit of a recluse these last few days. More so than normal."

Curiosity piqued, Lakota asked, "Any idea why?"

"I don't know, Commander," Chakwas said with a concerned sigh. "As I mentioned, she's kept more to herself than not I'm afraid."

The Spectre nodded her head in understanding. "Thanks, Doctor. I'll check in on her."

"As you wish, Commander."

Mentally giving her appearance the once-over, Lakota headed toward the med lab doors. The lab served as a research area, storage area and was also Dr. Liara T'Soni's workstation. It was an organized and efficient space despite filling two separate functions and being the only location where supplemental medical supplies were stocked.

Lakota briskly stepped through as the doors slid open. "Doctor?"

Liara swiveled in her chair and stood to greet Lakota. A smile played on her lips before she replied. "Commander."

"Have a caught you at bad time?"

"No. I was just finishing up some personal reports."

Lakota glanced behind her making sure the med lab doors had closed, and then dropped the formalities. "How's it going, Liara? Doctor Chakwas says you've become a bit reclusive?"

"Nothing to be concerned about, Commander. I have had more t…"

Lakota interrupted Liara's dismissal. "Does this have anything to do with the communications from Thessia?"

"Have you been keeping tabs on my communications, Commander?"

"No. Of course not. Not in that fashion anyway." As ship's commander, all reports passed over Lakota's desk, including communication transmissions. "Look…a report came across my desk and I noticed there's been a lot of comm traffic to your home world. Because of the inspections and debriefings from the Alliance and the Council, we haven't had any time to talk, let alone see each other. It's been two days, so I made some time and came down to check in on you. Nothing creepy. I just wanted to see how you were doing…if you felt like talking…" Shrugging her shoulders, Lakota added, "…or grabbing some lunch together."

"It's 15:00, Shepard."

"Make it dinner then."

"It is about Benezia," blurted Liara. "The transmissions from Thessia are regarding my mother. The Matriarchy board is starting to sort through her holdings and is requesting my assistance."

Alarmed by the new information, Lakota asked, "What does that mean? Do you have to leave soon?"

"The asari never do anything quickly. It will take months, maybe years, before all of the estate is sorted through. We are a long-lived species, so there is no hurry."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Yes and no. I had not seen my mother in many years, so the board is taking care of most details. Honestly, I am not sure what help I can offer them."

Lakota noticed hesitancy in Liara's demeanor, so she pushed a little further. "How are you holding up?"

"I…I do not know how to answer you." Liara's eyes touched every inch of the lab. Every inch, but the space where Lakota stood. "Although much time had passed since I last saw her, I did not expect this. To be dealing with her death."

Lakota stepped forward closing some of the distance to the asari scientist. "Is there anything I can do?"

Liara raised her head and, for the first time since she entered the room, she met Lakota's gaze. "I have made peace with my mother's actions and her passing, but there are times when I sense the depth of her absence from my life. These last few days have been…" The scientist hesitated, as if in search of the correct words, "…more difficult than anticipated."

"You know, you've never mentioned whether or not your mother's actions bothered you."

"I will never truly know the thoughts that led my mother to join Saren. I can only assume Shiala's words are correct and that she hoped to guide him down a more peaceful path."

"Do you think any less of her knowing the place she ended up?"

"No, Commander. I have chosen to remember the woman she was and the glimpse we had of her on Noveria. The rest was a perverted version under the control of Sovereign's indoctrination. Not truly Benezia at all. I will not judge her."

"I'm glad you found some peace." Shepard opened her mouth to say more, but closed it just as quickly.

Liara looked quizzically and questioned, "Commander, you seem to have something else on your mind."

"I'm surprised you haven't voiced any opinion on choices I've made since you've joined the crew."

Uncertainty flashed across the asari's face. "Commander?"

"Sorry." Lakota shook her head ruefully. "I just got done with two days of the Alliance and Council grilling me on what I did right and what they thought was questionable. I thought you, too, may disapprove of some of my choices, but you're just too polite to say anything."

"Because you killed Dr. Wayne, one of the men responsible for illegal and undoubtedly brutal experiments on a soldier from your old platoon?"

Lakota was taken aback by the fact that Liara gave her question credence, let alone had something to say about it.

"That could just as easily have been you, Commander." Liara raised an eyebrow as her gaze bore intently into her lover. "Or the time when you killed Fist, a known crime lord and agent of the Shadow Broker, who sent an innocent girl to her death?"

Still dumbfounded, Lakota was remanded to silence and could only stare blankly while the asari persisted.

"If you had not intervened, Tali would be dead." A sharp edge laced within Liara's voice as she continued. "Or were you referring to your conversation with Saren while battling on the Citadel, convincing him to kill himself?"

Lakota felt as though she'd been slapped by the undertones of hostility emanating from the asari's words. She cocked her head questioningly in her lover's direction, but continued to hold her tongue.

"Saren committed horrific crimes against citizens of the galaxy, killed those he had sworn to protect, used people for his private experiments and murdered Nihlus Kryik. You did not force him to pull the trigger; he chose that as his own way of atonement."

Still confused and unsure of where this conversation was headed, Lakota waited for Liara's lead.

"Or maybe when you held the ExoGeni executive at gunpoint on Feros…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," interrupted Lakota. Tired of the personalized history lesson, she waved her hands submissively in front of her. "I didn't realize you were taking notes."

Matter-of-factly, Liara stated, "I am a scientist. I am always 'taking notes'."

Looking slightly dejected, Lakota muttered, "Great."

"Although I am unfamiliar with human social etiquette and may be perceived as naïve, I assure you, I am not. I have traveled with krogan mercenaries, batarian pirates and asari commandos. I have engaged raiders on remote dig sites and helped a Spectre defeat a Reaper who was attempting to destroy all sentient life." Unyieldingly, she added, "I am many things, Commander, but I am not ignorant."

Startled by the asari's vehement tone, Lakota apologized. "I sorry, Liara, I didn't mean to sound as though you were."

"You are a fierce woman, Shepard. One who was put into challenging situations and who was forced to make difficult choices. You are a soldier in the middle of a war. A war that will not be won with nice words and kind gestures. But for all of your ruthlessness, I have also seen your compassionate side."

Skeptical, Lakota challenged, "Is that so?"

"Yes, Commander." Liara's gaze softened slightly. "Instead of killing the Rachni queen, a species that warred with the Citadel races for centuries, you let her go."

Lakota remained silent, but nodded in reluctant agreement.

Shaking her head incredulously, the asari voiced her wonderment. "Instead of killing Shiala, an asari who helped Saren and then was cloned by the Thorian, you let her go."

"True."

Admiration filled Liara's eyes as she continued. "You helped a complete stranger, Rita, by getting her sister out of harm's way."

Lakota stood speechless; being positively cross-examined was not a normal occurrence.

"You tried to save Matriarch Benezia…" Liara's voice faltered momentarily "…Even after everything she had done. After she…" Her head sank to her chest, and then she took a deep breath before continuing. "After my mother tried to kill you…you still…you still tried to save her."

The pieces fell into place for Lakota. She now knew what fed Liara's edgy behavior – the realization of her mother's absence. The commander moved in close, her left hand captured the asari's right while her right reached for Liara's downcast chin and tenderly lifted up until their eyes met.

Eyes glistening with tears, Liara said, "You are a complicated woman, Shepard, but I have never seen you, maliciously or without regard, act in a harsh manner."

Lakota's right hand reverently caressed Liara's cheek. She leaned forward until their foreheads touched and held herself still, taking in her lover's emotional release. The passage of time was beyond their notice. The human and asari stayed statuesque, listening to the hum of the _Normandy_, feeling the warmth of their close proximity, sensing the shift in atmosphere from prickly to peaceful.

Attempting to lighten the mood, Lakota quipped, "Well, you've never seen me play poker."

Bemused, Liara softly commented, "True, Commander. Maybe one day."

A heavy, cleansing sigh escape the asari as Lakota pulled her into the warmth of a gentle, loving embrace and held her close. Their energy intertwined, their breathing fell in sync and both smiled at the unexpected serenity.

Continuing her attempt at lightening the asari's mood, Lakota teased, "You know, I really only intended to find out if you wanted to meet me in my cabin later."

Liara stepped back from the embrace, rolled her eyes and gently hit the commander's shoulder. "It is a wonder why more people are not trying to kill you."

Lakota grinned devilishly. "So that's a 'Yes'?"

Liara returned to the embrace, her soft lips finding Lakota's. Initially intended as a comforting gesture, the kiss lit fire to an ember between them that never seemed to wan. Unhurried, their tongues flirted provocatively, tentatively tasting each other until Liara needed more. Her fingers threaded in Lakota's raven-black hair, gently pulling her closer, deepening the sensuous kiss.

Following Liara's lead, Lakota's hands sought her lover's hips and drew her in. Body to body, a sultry rhythm sprung subconsciously between them.

Liara felt Lakota's fingers rake up her thigh, over her hip and across her back. Shivers tingled from her neck down her spine settling in a place where thought could not exist. "Goddess…the things you make me feel…"

Liara's mouth descended upon Lakota's in a fiery burst of unadulterated lust. Inhibitions abandoned, her fingers found their way under the commander's shirt and began their fervent exploration of a strong muscular back tempered by smooth, soft skin.

Expertly maneuvering her lover, Lakota found leverage when Liara's shoulders were braced against the wall. Her hands roamed freely, bewitchingly over the asari's form, and she continued to arouse and delight when her lips moved to the neckline and gently bit down.

As Liara's fingers continued their erotically charged dance across her lover's backside, her nails dug in lasciviously causing an unexpected moan to emanate from Lakota. In response, the commander's teeth nibbled a sensitive spot on Liara's neck sending another shockwave of tingling sensations down her spine.

Breathlessly, Liara murmured, "Commander, you are off-duty, correct?"

"Technically. But you know a commander of a space ship is ne…"

Halting Lakota's response with a finger, Liara's lips pressed against her ear and longingly whispered, "And your command codes override any other on the ship?"

Subtly nodding, Lakota resumed her sensuous exploration of the asari's neckline. "Two days is definitely too long to go without seeing you."

"Commander?"

"Doctor?"

"Lock the door."


	6. Cargo Talk

Cargo Talk

Lakota could not sleep. Her day had been consumed with the Alliance review board and tomorrow she was scheduled to meet with the Citadel Council. Both bureaucratic groups wanted to interrogate her on the choices made during her hunt for Saren. Each had its own ideas of how things should have been handled, but in the end, they were not complaining too loudly about the results. They just wanted to reaffirm to themselves that they were still in charge.

Tonight though, Lakota's mind was sorely agitated and her thoughts too rampant to be reigned in or subdued by slumber for reasons beyond those of the administrative groups. After an unsuccessful thirty minutes of feigning sleep, she got dressed and attempted to quiet her mind by making rounds on the _Normandy_. This was a comfortable routine she had developed after taking command of the frigate.

Wandering through the _Normandy _during these "tween" times served to quiet Lakota's mind and help refocus her energies. For Lakota, "tween" time exists between shifts when a quiescent skeleton crew has control of the ship's helm, between missions when the _Normandy _is sedately en route to the next solar system or planetary mass, or even in those secluded, lazy moments between waking from the warmth of peaceful sleep and rolling out of bed. She cherished those "tween" moments because they were becoming more and more sporadic during her tenure as a Spectre.

The first night sleep shrewdly eluded Lakota was soon after she took command of the _Normandy_. On that night, while traveling to Therum in search of the asari scientist, Dr. Liara T'Soni, she found herself leisurely strolling into the cargo bay…

"_Commander?" Gunnery chief Ashley Williams was occupying her time at a workbench littered with pieces and parts of various assault rifles and pistols._

"_Chief, what are you doing up at this late, or should I say early, hour?"_

"_I could ask the same of you, ma'am."_

"_You could," Lakota joked, "but that would border on insubordination." _

"_Couldn't sleep, Commander. Don't need much though. Four or five hours of shuteye and I am good to go. Figured I'd come down to the bay and finish up on some weapon upgrades."_

"_I hear you, Chief. I couldn't find sleep tonight if it sucker punched me."_

"_What's keeping you awake, Commander?"_

"_It's a toss-up between Saren and the Council. Take your pick."_

"_I don't know how you do it. All that red tape... I would have shot someone by now."_

"_Trust me, I've thought about it." Casually, Lakota added, "Running on the treadmill didn't help at all, so I thought I'd be productive and get some inspections done."_

"_If you're looking to burn some energy, Commander, I'd be up for some sparring. Be nice to hit something that hits back for a change."_

"_You're on, Williams."_

The exercise was helpful, but the greatest reward materialized while talking with the gunnery chief. Ashley was a new addition to the crew, so Lakota had been unsure what to expect from the infantry soldier. But this initial rendezvous allowed Lakota a chance to ascertain personal details about her and also served as a starting point for future impromptu meetings. Eventually, these gatherings evolved into an unspoken time to drop the cares of the day and forget, if only for an hour or more, that the fate of the galaxy rested on their shoulders. It's the simple things that keep you sane. Frequently, they sparred. On other occasions, they upgraded equipment. But sometimes, they found themselves in a serious, principled discussion. And even though they disagreed on issues, Lakota appreciated Ashley's no-nonsense behavior and honest approach. After the mission on Feros, Lakota and Ashley had one such encounter…

"_Permission to speak freely, Commander?"_

_Lakota looked up from cleaning her sniper rifle- Styx. "Williams, it's only you, me and the Mako. Permission granted."_

"_Do you trust these aliens? Letting them roam freely through the Normandy seems like a bad security risk."_

"_Garrus, Wrex and Tali are not the enemy, Chief. Even Liara has proven useful beyond her Prothean knowledge. They're all a part of this crew now. The sooner everyone gets on board with that idea, the sooner we'll be able to apprehend Saren and finish this cat and mouse game across the galaxy."_

"_It just doesn't sit well with me, Commander. Krogan are not known for being team players. And having a quarian in engineering is just asking for trouble."_

"_Do you mistrust all aliens equally, Williams? Or is it just the few we've picked up along the way?"_

"_I'm no xenophobe, Skipper. It's just that this is an Alliance ship. Is it wise to allow them access to all of our technology?"_

"_Don't forget that the Normandy is a product of human and turian cooperative invention, Chief." Lakota opened her arms in a sweeping gesture, "Without 'alien' help, we wouldn't have gotten this ship out of space dock."_

"_I know, Commander, but that doesn't mean I agree with them having free reign on the ship."_

"_Simmer down, Williams. This is still an Alliance vessel. Nobody but Alliance crew has access to any data or equipment that's been deemed classified by those above our pay grades."_

_Nodding her head, Ashley focused her attention back on her pistol upgrades. "Aye, aye, Commander."_

"_It doesn't sound like you've worked with aliens before, is it going to be a problem?"_

_Ashley looked up, her gaze like a laser boring into Lakota. "No way, Commander. You tell me to jump; I'll ask 'how high?' You tell me to kiss a turian, I'll ask, 'which cheek.'"_

_Laughing, Lakota quipped, "I think you're safe, Chief. Kissing turians is not on my 'things to do' list."_

Ashley had been transferred to the _Normandy _immediately after Lakota's team saved her from a geth attack. The rest of her platoon had been killed during that assault on the human colony, Eden Prime, which unceremoniously bequeathed Ashley with the bitter title of sole survivor. It was a something Lakota, sole survivor of the Akuze massacre, shared in common with her gunnery chief. Lakota had known those first few weeks were emotionally burdensome on Ashley…

"_How you holding up, Williams?"_

"_Commander?" Ashley had been fidgeting with the same sniper rifle upgrade kit for the past hour; her thoughts obviously not focused on the disassembled machinery in front of her._

_Lakota rephrased her question. "How are you adjusting to your placement on the Normandy?"_

"_Fine, ma'am. The Normandy is a top notch ship with a first rate crew. I'm honored to be here. I just…"_

"_Just wish you'd gotten here under different circumstances," Lakota astutely inserted._

"_Yes, ma'am." Looking up from the workbench, Ashley met Lakota's eyes and tentatively inquired, "Commander, may I ask you a personal question?"_

"_You can ask, but that doesn't mean I'll answer."_

"_How did you do it? How did you go on after Akuze? I lost my whole squad on Eden Prime and nothing I do, say or think helps me…" A distressed, lamented sigh escaped Ashley as her gaze shifted back to the workbench, her downcast eyes betraying the anguished regret she held within. _

"_I've found that people deal with grief in many different ways, but that each method is invariably bound in something they have faith in."_

"_Faith? Like believing in God or a higher power?"_

_Lakota shook her head slightly. "Not necessarily. Take Tali, for instance. She has faith in physics, in the theories of mass, energy and motion. Garrus, on the other hand, has faith in things that are quantifiable and that can be calibrated. Liara has faith in scientific method, analyzing data and comprehensive study."_

_Ashley's somber countenance was instantly replaced by an all-knowing smirk. "Oh yeah, I've see her study you like that."_

_Caught off-guard, Lakota coughed out, "Wha..?"_

_Her mood noticeably lightening, Ashley further teased, "Come on, Commander! You're not __**that**__ naïve. That asari scientist isn't studying Prothean relics anymore. She's got you in her sights."_

_Lakota's face, slowly and uncharacteristically, turned deep red. Embarrassed by the spotlight on her personal life, she attempted to change the subject. "Yes…well…ahem…the point is that to get through the difficult moments you have to hold onto the thing that grounds you. The thing you have the most faith in."_

_Still grinning, Ashley nodded in quiet agreement._

_Lakota, now smiling as well, thoughtfully advised, "You'll never get over it, Ash. You'll never forget it. But you will grow beyond it. Find your center and give yourself time. You're strong Williams…just give yourself some more time to process."_

"_Thanks, Commander. I appreciate your vote of confidence."_

Lakota also appreciated Ashley's versatile ability to see the grey in a situation. She was a soldier first and foremost, but she understood that some scenarios never made it in the rule book and, for certain personal issues, there was no rule book. Ashley had been present when a member of the Tenth Street Reds foolishly tried his hand at blackmailing the commander. Nothing about that encounter was ever mentioned in the ship's scuttlebutt, indicating to Lakota that the gunnery chief had integrity and valued personal privacy; two qualities Lakota held in high regard.

The only time they ever talked about the blackmail incident was the same night it happened, after Lakota wandered back down to the ship's cargo bay…

"_Skipper, that was a close call with Finch. I thought you were going to kill him."_

"_So did I," stated Lakota apathetically._

_Curious about her commander's motivations, Ashley inquired, "Why didn't you?"_

_Shrugging her shoulders, Lakota confessed, "I didn't see the point in it. He's a royal idiot, but his words, his threats, are more of a nuisance than anything else. Look at the big picture: we're trying to save the galaxy from a Reaper invasion. Although I'd rather it not be public knowledge, my past with the Reds is barely noteworthy in comparison."_

"_Seems like you got some good skills out of that affiliation though."_

"_Is that so?"_

_Ashley cocked her head assessing the commander. "I've never seen anyone move that fast with a blade before. Have you always been that good? I didn't even know you carried one."_

"_Actually, I carry at least two," answered Lakota matter-of-factly. "Old habit. Been carrying one since I was…hell…," she shook her head in exasperated disbelief, "since I was four."_

"_I could hear his knees knocking ten feet away. I swore he was going to pass out when he saw you throw the first knife, and hit his friend hiding behind the crate. Then you walked up to him, bold as brass, whispered something, and he turned ten shades of white. I guarantee he almost pissed himself." Curiosity got the best of her again, so Ashley asked, "What did you say to him?"_

"_I reminded him that some tigers still have claws."_

_Not comprehending the reference, the gunner chief pried a little further, "Commander?"_

"_Let's just say, when I left the Reds, I left a mark."_

"_No surprise there, Skipper. You've got a knack for making a big entrance and even bigger exit." Although completely serious in her commentary, Ashley could not hide the smirk that graced her face. _

_After a momentary pause, she questioned Lakota, "You think you could teach me to throw like that?"_

"_I don't know, Williams. Do you throw like a volus?"_

"_Hell, no, Commander. I throw like a Williams which means I'll drill you through the eyes."_

"_Most people who try to throw a knife, or who have seen someone do it, think that sticking a knife is difficult and requires excellent hand to eye coordination. But knife throwing only appears to be difficult. In fact, it's quite easy and requires little coordination… if one knows the correct technique. So, that said, let's get started."_

On one occasion, Lakota unexpectedly came across Ashley in disquiet, forlorn state. It was the night she stumbled upon the gunnery chief in the mess. Ashley was seated at the dining table deftly using her fort to stab some rations which miraculously passed as mashed potatoes.

"_Good evening, Chief."_

_Startled out of her personal reverie, Ashley stuttered, "Huh?...oh… Hello, Commander." Immediately, her eyes returned to her campaign against the potatoes._

"_Something wrong, Ash?"_

_Letting out a contemplative sigh, Ashley confided, "It's my sister Sarah's birthday. It's a Williams' tradition to call, message, knock on the door, or in some way or another harass the birthday girl at precisely 00:01 hours on the day she was born."_

"_Well, it's 00:52, were you successful in your harassment?"_

"_I sent her a message, but it's her twenty-first birthday and I had promised I would be there. Told her she'd never forget it."_

"_You're lucky to have such a close family. I'm sure she'll understand."_

_Chuckling, Ashley remarked, "You haven't met Sarah. She'll forgive me, but she'll never let me forget it." Taking in a deep breath, the gunnery chief quietly added, "The real kicker is that I miss my family. I haven't seen them in almost two years. My sisters are growing up, starting their lives. I just miss them."_

"_Like I said, Ash, you're lucky to have them."_

_Attempting to shift the topic, Ashley quizzed, "What about you, Commander. Any birthday traditions?"_

"_No. Not for me. Growing up, birthdays were just a reminder that you had no family."_

"_Wow. No kidding? Did you celebrate anything?"_

_Smiling wistfully, Lakota replied, "Yes. There was one holiday I celebrated; it's called 'El Dia de los Muertos'…"_

Gunnery chief Ashley Williams died heroically on Virmire. She gave her life so hundreds could live. She gave her life so Lakota had a chance to defeat Saren and destroy Sovereign. Ashley's sacrifice was one that Lakota carried with her every day. She knew death was part of the risk when you were a soldier, but Ashley had gone to her death because of a direct order. A direct order issued by Lakota.

Lakota could not sleep. Her day had been consumed with the Alliance review board and tomorrow she was scheduled to meet with the Citadel Council. She told herself that she was attempting to quiet her mind by making rounds on the _Normandy_. She told herself this was a comfortable routine she had developed after taking command of the frigate. In truth, she wandered aimlessly through the ship looking for her friend that would no longer be there.

A friend she sorely missed.

"..the Day of the Dead."

"Commander, did you say something?"

Startled by the sound of a voice, Lakota spun around and saw Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko standing alongside her in the cargo bay. She was positioned in front of the workbench that she and Ashley had conversed across so many times before.

Not caring about protocol, Lakota nodded her head and acknowledged the soldier. "Kaidan, I was just remembering an old conversation with Ashley."

Following his superior officer's surprisingly informal lead, Kaidan replied, "I understand. I can't help but think of her every time I pass by this table. But, Shepard, I didn't expect to find you down here at this late hour."

Lost in bittersweet reminiscence, Lakota explained, "My last personal conversation with Ash had been about a holiday I celebrate. It's called 'El Día de los Muertos'_, _which roughly translates to 'The Day of the Dead'."

"I'm not familiar with that holiday, Commander."

"It focuses on gathering to pray for and to remember friends and family who have passed. Where I grew up, death is viewed as the continuation of life, so instead of fearing death, it's embraced. Some of the elders I knew considered life to be a dream and only in death will they become truly awake."

"Sounds fascinating. What's the holiday like?"

As her thoughts drifted back to pleasant childhood memories, Lakota smiled and explained. "It's celebrated differently depending on the region, but in Mexico City, where I'm from, it's a three day event starting on October 31st. Children in costumes roam the streets; elaborate alters- created to honor the dead, are adorned with food and keepsakes; and music resonates from the burial grounds all day and night throughout the city. It's the only time I remember food being abundant to all. November 1st is known as 'El Día de Todos los Santos' or 'All Saints Day'. Children who have died are honored on this day."

Lakota turned her head and wistfully looked back upon the workbench. "November 2, today, is officially called 'El Día de los Muertos', 'The Day of the Dead', or 'All Souls Day'. On this day, adults who have passed are honored, so I am down in the cargo bay honoring Ashley."

Taken aback, Kaidan apologized. "I am sorry, ma'am, I didn't know. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're fine, Alenko. This is a celebration for Ashley, not a funeral." Lakota's gaze met Kaidan's in quiet affirmation.

"If that's the case, then might I suggest we raise a glass and dedicate a toast to Ashley? I know where Chakwas stocks the good stuff."

"You're on, Alenko"

Before Lakota followed Kaidan to the elevator, she placed a vintage, leather bound book on the workbench in remembrance of Ashley: a book of Alfred Lord Tennyson's poetry. Lakota had cashed in a favor with Admiral Hackett who also appreciated classic, earth literature.

Closing her eyes, Lakota whispered a heartfelt prayer. "You were a friend, but you were also part of my family. I hope peace has found its way to you."

Lakota made sure the old tome was opened to a specific page, then turned and walked away.

_The Charge of the Light Brigade_

_…_

_When can their glory fade?_  
_O the wild charge they made!_  
_All the world wonder'd._  
_Honour the charge they made!_  
_Honour the Light Brigade,_

_..._

_-Alfred Lord Tennyson_


	7. Mess Talk

Mess Talk

"Arrrghhhhh!"

Lakota vehemently launched her full-faced, field helmet across the crew quarters hitting her locker squarely. Wrath not appeased, she strode quickly to pick up the ricocheted head piece, and, with a viciousness born of rage, swung it down on her locker. Still not satisfied, the helmet was apathetically discarded, and she savagely punched the metal door. Rabid pain seared through her hand, arm, and shoulder, acutely punctuating the terse moment. Because her wild rampage had no effective outlet, Lakota's emotional control was in tatters, and every muscle, every fiber was wound taut, ready to snap. Without warning, like a puppet whose strings were cut, she fell heavily to her knees. Frustrated tears burned the rims of her eyes as she attempted to rein in her righteous fury.

A familiar swoosh of sliding doors was heard, followed by footsteps descending the CIC stairwell. Without looking up, Lakota angrily barked, "I locked this floor down, soldier! Get the hell out!"

"No," was the serene reply from across the room.

Irritated, Lakota slumped forward. Her forehead touched the cool, dented locker door seeking some sort of salve for her emotional frenzy. "Liara, now is not a good time."

The asari scientist clearly saw her lover's embittered state. "Commander, what did the Council say?"

Looking over, Lakota seethed, "What didn't they say? Apparently, the whole 'Battle of the Citadel' was caused by Saren." Lakota abruptly stood and began to pace furiously; her outrage reborn and barely contained. "Oh…and he recruited an army of geth to help him." With each word her voice became more agitated. "And his ship, Sovereign, was just a ship." Turning suddenly to face Liara, her words were laced with acid. "And now the precious Council, in its' infinite wisdom, is sending me to hunt down the geth!" Spinning back to fanatically pace once again, she sneered, "What the hell was the point in saving them, if all they do is cover-up the real threat?"

"Commander…"

"I am being sent on a fool's errand, Liara!" roared Lakota. "The Reapers are real! And they are coming, but nobody wants to do a blasted thing about it."

Liara tried again. "You do."

Lakota laughed ruefully. "Oh…and that's the best part! The Council is throwing me to the media maws! Haven't you seen the news vids? You are now in the presence of a hero!" The last word was spit out venomously.

With an impassive, but firm tone that belied the commander's inflamed state, Liara answered, "Yes, I saw them. But Commander, you did lead your crew and stopped Saren. And whatever they admit, or will not admit about the Reapers, you did defeat Sovereign."

"Don't you get it Liara? The Council is encouraging this insidious idea to take the focus off the fact that a larger threat exists, and they have no clue what to do about it!"

"Shepard, the fact remains that you defeated both Saren and Sovereign."

"I am no hero, Liara," Lakota retorted hotly. "I am a soldier. A Spectre. I did my job. Nothing more, nothing less."

"I disagree."

Jaw clenched tightly, Lakota coldly condemned, "You are entitled to your opinion, Doctor."

The asari scientist paid no attention to the verbal dismissal, "Commander…"

Interrupting with a raised hand, Lakota abruptly halted her pacing. "Liara, stop. I feel betrayed. I am angry. I am frustrated. And I want to hit or shoot something, but this ship is too small for a firing range. No amount of coddling will make me feel better right now."

"Then perhaps you should talk about something else?" Liara walked further into the room, stepping to face the commander, but keeping the crew's dining table between them.

Rolling her eyes, Lakota exasperatingly shook her head and demanded, "And just what should I talk about?"

"You never finished the story about your scar."

"My scar?" snapped Lakota incredulously. Her voice verged on hysteria. "You want to know how I got my scar? Now?" With her right forefinger pointed at her right eyebrow, Lakota made a brutal, diagonal cut in the air in front of her and vehemently cornered, "This seven inch slash across my face?"

Not backing down, Liara unflinchingly confirmed, "Yes, Commander."

"Sure! Why not?" Agitation radiated off her in waves as Lakota's arms opened wide in a mocking portrayal of being on stage. "Let's add one more sad tale to this day of misery!"

Lakota recommenced her angry pacing and attempted to restrain the burning inferno that raged within. Taking deliberate, slow breaths, she forced herself to speak, but sarcasm was woven into every word. "You already know about being born and raised in the Mexico City slums… Well, life in the Red Den was picturesque. Let's skip the fun stuff like how we were sorted as cattle: smart ones here, strong ones there, pretty ones here. And let's slide over how we were pitted to fight each other like prized varren. Oh, and don't forget using food as a reward system. But the best… _the best_ was when the older boys and girls brutalized the younger ones."

Lakota stopped short, no longer able to maintain her cavalier, flippant façade. She stood still, taking another deep breath as her left hand reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes, forced a calm composure, and then mindfully exhaled. "I was lucky though. Guns weren't allowed at that time, so I became very adept with knives, daggers… anything sharp that fit into my hands. It took a boy losing an eye, a girl being gutted and another boy, twice my size, losing his so-called manhood before I was left alone."

Lakota leaned back against the beaten locker, downcast eyes blindly roaming the floor. "Truth is, kids started looking to me for leadership…or something…after that."

Remembering the reason for the monologue, she shifted her ill-tempered gaze and directly challenged the asari. "But you wanted to know about the scar. For that we'll need to jump ahead to when I was fifteen, and a lieutenant for the Reds." Composure faltering for a moment, she antagonistically added, "Incidentally, I got that promotion by killing two rival gang members when I was twelve… How's _that_ for a hero?"

Shaking her head as if to dispel the grim memory, Lakota revealed, "'Shepard' was my nickname."

"Nickname?" Liara could barely contain her bewilderment. "But I thought your full name…"

Bluntly, Lakota interrupted, "I was born in some back alley of the slums. No birth certificate, no name. I was sold to the Red Den by my drug addled mother when I was days old. No one gave me a name. Not until I was maybe four years old and someone called me 'Shepard' because the other kids followed me around. The name stuck."

Attempting to make sense of the unsuspected revelation, Liara cornered, "But your first name, 'Lakota'…"

"Is one I gave myself. I forged my birth certificate with it and joined the Alliance at sixteen."

"Sixteen?" Astonished, Liara continued her attempt to sort out her confusion. "But I thought the recruitment age was eighteen?"

"It is. And my birth certificate said I was eighteen." As an afterthought, Lakota offered, "I don't even know my real birth date, so I chose the day I enrolled, April 11. I figured it was a new beginning."

Liara was rendered speechless. She looked quizzically at the commander as if attempting to put a complicated puzzle back together: piece by piece.

Sharply, Lakota vented, "Hell, Liara. I told you my childhood wasn't pleasant."

Still unsure of what to say, Liara's eyes narrowed in reflection to the thoughts and queries formulating in her mind.

Lakota took note of her lover's unspoken questions and sardonically retorted, "You wanted to hear all of it. Fine. Here it is, in all its splendor."

Resolute in her chosen path, Lakota squared her shoulders and began her tale. "I was fifteen and one of six lieutenants. Grace liked to keep things balanced: three boys, three girls. Grace was the den mother; she ran the show."

Lakota returned to her supportive posture on the battle scarred locker, while long-safeguarded images, blending between tragic and kind, flashed through her senses. She faced away from Liara, her thoughts transporting her back to point when life seemed simple. Brutal, but simple. She bowed her head in remorse for what those memories wrought, because it was also a time when friendship and betrayal walked hand in hand.

Lakota tilted her head, so she could catch a glimpse of Liara in her left periphery, and then continued her story. "We were all groomed from an early age. Grace hand-picked us. She gave us food, clothing, and shelter. Educated us. She was of the 'might equals right' school, so the stronger we became, the more powerful she became. But don't fool yourself. By 'education' I mean, we were taught to read, write and given some technical training. I excelled in electronics and hand to hand combat, so those were my primary focus. We were schooled in firearms and, eventually, allowed to carry guns, but I preferred my blades: quick, silent, easily concealed, and I had a decent throwing range."

"Each of the lieutenants had a squad of four to six underneath them, and each squad was designed with a specific purpose in mind. My squad focused on B&E." Lakota assumed the asari was unfamiliar with the slang, so without turning her head, she elaborated, "Which means we broke into houses, stores or warehouses and stole whatever was valuable. Three of the squads were focused on selling drugs throughout the city, and the other two focused 'public relations'. Basically, they dealt with the other gangs trying to encroach on our territory."

Caught up in festering memories, an irritated sigh escaped Lakota. "Grace was larger than life. Beautiful, poised, mesmerizing. A magnetic personality. We all loved her and wanted to be in her spotlight. She could be very generous when you were her favored… but she was vicious and unforgiving, if she felt slighted by you."

With a wry, humorless smile, Lakota added, "Looking back, she was a bit of a megalomaniac."

"I was Grace's favorite until she felt threatened by my growing popularity. The other lieutenants looked to me for leadership. The younger members did so, too. I even had the respect of rival gangs. She kept us all on a short leash though, and made sure to remind us that she was in charge."

Accusingly, Lakota snapped, "Kind of like what the Alliance and Council have been trying to do with me these last few days."

Skipping over the finer details, Lakota got to the heart of the story. "At some point, Grace became paranoid and killed my crew. Six kids, the oldest not even fourteen. Massacred them while I was in a meeting with her. When I returned home, I found them. They'd been shot to death."

Liara heard Lakota's voice break slightly at the mention of her young crew. She saw the commander's rigid stance soften as if being broken down by the weight of her grisly memories. She even felt Lakota's energy shift from an overflowing, tempestuous wrath to a tightly contained, inconsolable sadness.

"At that moment, I received a phone call from one of the other lieutenants, Rosa. She told me the apartment was rigged with explosives, and I needed to get out fast. I started to run, but they detonated before I got to the door."

Lakota wearily looked up, her haunted eyes filled with bitter, unshed tears. "I should have died that day, but I didn't. An old, beat up refrigerator fell on me and took the brunt of the blast. Saved my life. I had broken arm, some fractured ribs and a seven inch cut across my face, but I was alive."

Tempered by the confessional tenor, Lakota's gaze beseechingly locked with her lover, and in response, Liara slowly crossed the distance between them. She was careful to assess whether or not a close proximity was something Lakota could handle. Finally, when standing inches in front of the commander, she tentatively asked, "What happened afterward?"

"Rosa found me, made sure I got some medical attention, and then kept me hidden from Grace. Everyone thought I died in the explosion. Whatever interest the authorities had in the case, Grace made sure it went away. She was very influential." Lakota's body was immobilized. Tears began to fall freely down her cheeks, but she did not break the visual lifeline with her lover.

Liara attempted to move closer, to offer comfort, but Lakota, knowing that if the tale stopped, it would never be told, shook her head drawing an invisible boundary line.

Astutely, Liara observed, "But that is not the end of your story."

"No. It's not. My sole focus from that point on was to get justice for my murdered crew." Wet, red-rimmed eyes narrowed menacingly, and Lakota matter-of-factly added, "And once I was healthy, I got just that."

"I found out that two of the other lieutenants were responsible for butchering my crew, so I hunted them down and killed them. Those who tried to stop me when I went after Grace died, as well. When I finally confronted Grace, she was defenseless, but I shot her anyway."

No longer able to bear the compassionate look of her lover, Lakota penitently closed her haggard, tear-stained eyes. Droplets continued to intermittently slide down her cheeks as though releasing a burden that would no longer be contained.

"I had so much rage, so much fury, inside me. She killed my crew. She tried to kill me. And there she sat, at her desk, trying to convince me that she and I could lead the Reds into a new era. That all of it was a test designed to make me stronger. That I owed her for all the things she'd done for me."

Lifting her head, Lakota's defiant glare harshly nourished her feral state of mind. "I told her to go to hell. Then I shot her."

The tidal wave of righteous anger disappeared as quickly as it reared, leaving in its declining wake an emotionally raw, dispirited soul. As a troubled afterthought, Lakota added, "I never killed anyone with a gun before."

Dismissing the invisible boundary line, Liara's right hand reached out and softly caressed the commander's right cheek, wiping away lingering wetness. "What happened to Rosa?"

Pain flashed across Lakota's face. "She died protecting me."

Liara's voice was soft and considerate. "I am sorry. I can tell she meant something to you."

"Yes, she did. She was the only friend I had."

As if her memories were weighted, Lakota wearily shifted her shoulders, emotional exhaustion burrowing to her core. "I joined the Alliance right after. I needed to disappear. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Gently tracing her lover's facial scar, Liara conveyed her appreciation. "Thank you for telling me about this."

"I never told another soul my story before," confided Lakota. "This is going to sound like a cliché, but it feels good to finally tell someone."

A smile played at Liara's lips when she jokingly advised, "Remember that in the morning."

Lakota remained silent, but offered a tired smile in return.

Attempting to lighten the mood, the asari affectionately teased, "So Commander, you are only twenty-seven years old."

Bemused, Lakota shook her head. "Way to pick out the important part, Doctor. Don't tell the Alliance though. They sort of frown on forged documents."

Completely forsaking the veiled boundary lines, Liara leaned in and tenderly kissed Lakota. The kiss carried the implied sympathy, the inferred compassion, and implicit trust she bound around her lover. As the moment quietly settled, Liara sensed the imprisoned grief still emanating from Lakota's being. She intuitively knew the commander held back some bit of caustic information which mercilessly tore at her.

Moving so that their foreheads touched serenely, her voice soothed, "Shepard...what you are holding onto? Just let it go."

Anguished tears from a persistent, unwanted memory silently flowed down Lakota's cheeks as she whispered her soul-weary confession, "Before she died, Rosa said…she…"

Years of pent up mourning broke through Lakota's timeworn barrier. Awash in old, despairing emotions, she fought for, and gained control of the fervent, turbulent flood. Forcing herself to bring the dirgeful autobiography to an end, she sighed miserably, "…she called me a hero."

Leaning back, Lakota looked into Liara's eyes with naked vulnerability and woefully stated, "I'm no hero."

Liara reverently enveloped Lakota in her arms. She felt the commander initially fight the offered refuge, but then, with stoic effort, Lakota unshackled her self-condemnation and melted into the haven of her lover's absolving embrace. A long, weary sigh emanated from the Commander as her face burrowed into the crook of Liara's neck.

Continuing to stroke Lakota's back in an affectionate, tranquil motion, Liara lovingly whispered, "You are to me."


	8. Med Bay Talk

**Author's note:**

_In my writings, I normally attempt to stick to the canon templates. IE: No one verbally calls Shepard by her first name (though they could "think" it). But in this piece, I stepped out of canon mode, and gave Dr. Chakwas a first name. I felt the friendship and intimacy between the two demanded nothing less. I apologize if this offends any readers, but this is, after all, Lakota's story. _

_Also, I am currently on the hunt for a beta reader, so I beg pardon for any missed grammatical errors._

_As always, thanks for reading!_

* * *

Med Bay

The _NormandySR-1_was docked at the Citadel space station, and crews were loading the final list of supplies before heading out on their next mission: hunt the geth in the Omega Nebula. Lakota was not pleased about the direction of the assignment, but she was doing her best to keep her opinion to herself and follow orders. Part of those orders included a check-up visit with Dr. Chakwas for injuries received a few weeks past during the final confrontation with Saren. Dressed in nothing more than her black bra, matching underwear and thin, short medical gown, Lakota obediently sat on one of the med beds in the medical bay. Her thoughts aimlessly wandered over the many ways in which the flimsy garment lacked humility.

The commander was in a particularly good mood today. Not only had the upgrades for her sniper rifle, _Styx_, arrived, but she and Liara arranged their schedules, so they could meet later in the day. Because quality time had become a sparse luxury, they kept the plan simple: spend the evening together, starting with dinner on the Citadel. Lakota knew of a small, hole-in-the-wall bistro that served wonderfully authentic, cross-cultural meals. But first she needed to get through this exam.

"So what's the verdict, Doc? Am I alive?"

"Yes, you're alive, Commander. Although at the rate you're going, I'm not sure how long it will last."

Chakwas passed a small handheld med scanner over Lakota's injured shoulder capturing up-to-date information on the healing progress.

"I figure I'm like a cat with nine lives."

"And that leaves how many left to play with?"

"Hmmmm…good question. If I'm optimistic, then I have at least five left."

"And if you're not optimistic?"

"Three. Definitely three."

"It's amazing you made it off Earth in one piece, Commander. Then there was that mess with Akuze. And now the infraction with Saren and Sovereign." Mulling over the scanner readings, Chakwas glibly remarked, "You were lucky to come out of that altercation with only a dislocated shoulder, cracked ribs and minor cuts and bruising."

An upbeat Lakota quipped, "It's a living."

"Not a very healthy one," deadpanned the doctor.

Lakota flashed her award-winning smile in the direction of the older woman. "I can't argue with you there, but that's why I have you, Doc."

Over the last few months, their relationship evolved from professional colleagues to trusted friends. The hunt for Saren produced an ideal backdrop for each of them to casually assess the other's skill and prowess, either in the field of battle or the medical bay. Through a series of unrelated events; various injuries, a certain asari being assigned to the med lab, and even bonding over cognac and brandy; their mutual respect had been given the attention needed to sprout and flourish into a full-fledged friendship.

"Well, you're lucky. You're in superb health which has aided in the mending of your injuries." Chakwas looked up from the handheld medical device. "I noticed, in your medical file, that you opted not to have any O.S.P's implanted. That's unusual for someone of your rank and status." O.S.P stood for ocular synaptic processors, a common implant for soldiers of advanced rank.

Shaking her head, Lakota firmly articulated her views. "Not for me. I'm not a fan of genetic, synthetic or cybernetic augmentation. I am 'au naturale,' as they say."

"Well, it seems to have worked for you."

"Must have been my idyllic upbringing."

"Those rose-colored glasses do not suit you, Commander."

Lakota's unclassified files provided Chakwas with a base history of the younger woman's less-than-fortunate childhood- the doctor's own experiences with the seedier side of Earth filled in the rest of the gaps.

Chakwas stepped over to her workstation verifying the encoded, wireless transfer of files had uploaded from the hand scanner. Once satisfied, she turned and announced, "I'm not sure how you avoided it, but it appears you haven't had a full physical in four years. We'll be remedying that discrepancy now."

Scowling slightly, Lakota grumbled, "Don't take this personally, Doc, but I've never been a fan of those in the medical profession. Present company excluded, of course."

"I hope so, Commander. I would hate to think all of your playful banter is for the sake of getting a lollipop."

Her mood visibly brightening, Lakota beamed, "You have those?"

"Only if you behave."

"Yes, ma'am."

The doctor left the med scanner on her desk, picked up the medtab and padded back over to finish the exam. The eight by eleven inch computer tablet was an invaluable tool. It offered the convenient ability to wirelessly download, edit and upload medical documentation from anywhere on the ship. The encrypted tablet also allowed open access to the Alliance's vast medical database, so research could be done outside the medical bay.

While the medical files updated on the tablet, Chakwas thoughtfully regarded the commander. Her eyes followed the line of the trademark, facial scar that began just above Lakota's right eyebrow, continued diagonally over her nose, across her left cheek, and ended at her jaw bone. The seven inch line was a subject of interest to many individuals, human and alien, alike. Few ever directly asked Lakota about the mark, though. Instead, they were content to build it into an epic, underground legend with many colorful and exaggerated rumors of origin. Some say she picked it up while fending for her life on Akuze, a few believed she acquired it while on a covert black ops mission against the batarians, and others thought she got it while single-handedly fighting through a blockade of krogan mercenaries. Curiously, nobody ever elaborated on why she faced off against an army of pay-for-hire krogan.

Nonetheless, the doctor respected the younger woman's avoidance of the subject matter, and usually, steered clear of conversations involving her life before the Alliance. But there were times when reality begged for compassionate acknowledgement.

With a sad, knowing sigh, Chakwas commented on the faded, but unmistakable scar. "I can see why you wouldn't care for doctors. You should have received better care on Earth."

Barley able to contain her surprise, Lakota remarked, "You know I got this on Earth?"

"I surmised it, Commander. There was no record of such a wound listed in your Alliance medical history, so I looked up your medical intake report. It was noted there."

Lakota thought on this for a moment, and then explained. "Yeah…it happened when I was fifteen. 'Wrong place, wrong time' type of scenario."

"Yes, well, the doctor who took care of that," Chakwas pointed her right index finger at the facial scar, "should have their license revoked."

"Well," a chagrinned smile lit up Lakota's face, "it wasn't so much a doctor as it was a part-time midwife. There's a slight lack of medical facilities in certain parts of Mexico City."

Shaking her head in unhappy acceptance, the older woman informed, "You know, there are noninvasive procedures that could remove it."

Putting both hands defensively in front of her, Lakota shook her head and dismissed the thought. "Thanks, Doc, but I prefer having it. After so many years, it's as much a part of me as my hair or eye color. It's like an old friend. You know, the one that reminds you where you came from and why you're doing what you do."

"Yes, Commander, I understand. Old war dogs, such as yourself, place honor in a different type of medal."

Chakwas continued reviewing her scans of the commander making notations of any discrepancies from prior exams. The medical tablet automatically compared the current medical information, gathered from both the med bed and med scanner, with other medical files in the database, and highlighted any differences. It was the doctor's responsibility to rate those anomalies as significant or not. Several other aged, but note-worthy aberrations pinpointed along her patient's back, torso, arms and thighs had been recorded and updated to the out-of-date files. If scars were the paint, Lakota's body was the canvas.

"These other injuries …they don't look like the handiwork of your midwife. Whoever sewed you back up was very adept."

"Thank you."

"For what, Commander?"

"I stitched most of them myself. No medi-gel or high grade tools to use. Learned it 'old-school' style. Very basic supplies: needle, thread and a lot of alcohol."

"I'm impressed. If you ever care to change professions," Chakwas waited a split second before delivering the punch line, "I could use a skilled nurse."

"Hah! Not a chance, Doc." Winking, Lakota teased, "I faint at the sight of blood."

Intrigued by the commander's medical aptitude, Chakwas inquired, "Where'd you get your triage experience?"

"I was the backup medical for most of my units. Not a lot of work as the secondary, but a lot of intense training. But most of my practical experience came while I lived on Earth." Aloofly shrugging her shoulders, she added, "I learned about basic anatomy, infections, and setting broken bones from a back alley doctor trying to help the less fortunate. Picked up how to properly stitch a wound from a leatherworker."

Impressed by Lakota's tenacity, Chakwas lauded, "You always struck me as someone who took advantage of every opportunity…or created them when they couldn't be found."

"Keeps me out of trouble," smirked Lakota.

The commander's recent medical files were scant on entries, but Chakwas could tell that many of the younger woman's wounds happened within the last few years. It was also obvious to the veteran doctor that Lakota was keeping her med skills honed, and at the same time, keeping some of her injuries off the record. The doctor made a mental note, but intentionally overlooked adding personal remarks to the file.

"Commander, I thought you should know that the upgraded medical beds have some new features."

Not following the doctor's line of thought, Lakota half-heartedly responded, "Okay…?"

"With the rise in terrorist activity, the Alliance is installing new scanning equipment and implementing new medical protocol."

"Yes, I read the briefings."

"When they upgraded our med beds a few weeks ago, the new data chips were installed. This year, during annual physicals, each military service person will be scanned with the new program parameters, just as you were today. Basically, we're pulling a DNA finger print, complete with retinal scans, blood workup, and even a bone marrow breakdown."

"Right. With the various types of medical augmentation available on the black market, the Alliance is concerned about saboteurs and infiltration."

"Precisely, Commander. And examining the cellular degeneration of bone marrow is one way to verify a person's identity…and their exact age."

Lakota's breath caught in her chest. Mentally forcing herself to remain calm, she noncommittally replied, "I see."

"I mention this because there seems to be a discrepancy in your medical files. How hold did you say you were, Commander?"

Without missing a beat, Lakota recited the well-worn lie. "Twenty-nine. Born four, eleven, twenty-one, fifty-four. Joined the Alliance, on four, eleven, twenty-one, seventy-two."

"Yes. Of course."

Chakwas knew the upgraded medical equipment, which had identified the commander as being twenty-seven, was perfectly calibrated. And although the commander was gifted at a great many things, lying was not on the list. Putting those two pieces together, the doctor accurately deduced that the soldier on the med bed had somehow enlisted with the Alliance before the age of eighteen. Looking intently at the woman who put her life on the line for humanity, for the galaxy; the woman who had earned her trust and admiration, the doctor made a keen, clear-cut decision and punched some figure into the medtab.

After she finished editing Lakota's date of birth, Chakwas declared, "I see no reason to keep you here any longer, Commander. As far as I am concerned, you are fit for duty."

Their gazes locked in a silent exchange which articulated all that just occurred.

"Thank you." Relief visibly flooded over Lakota as she hopped off the medical bed, and immediately started to put on her clothes. In less than a minute, she was pulling on her leather boots and straightening her shirt. She hesitantly glanced over at the doctor, opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it just as quickly.

Noticing the commander's odd behavior, Chakwas inquired, "Is there anything else I can do for you, Commander?"

Collecting her thoughts, Lakota tentatively asked, "Off the record?"

Chakwas put down the medtab and nodded her head in confirmation. "Off the record."

"Well, I have a question or two…and since you're the most knowledgeable person I know on alien physiology…"

"I am not an expert, but I do have a good amount of experience. What's your question, Commander?"

Lakota's uncertainty hung on her like a secret waiting to be released. "Ahem…well…this is a bit awkward."

"No need for pleasantries, Commander. I am here to help. If that assistance comes in the form of knowledge, so be it."

Taking a deep breath, Lakota plunged into the question. "Have you ever heard of any side effects from a human and asari…um…melding?"

Slightly surprised, Chakwas immediately went into fact finding mode. "Are you concerned about your melding with Dr. T'Soni? When she helped you sort out the Prothean visions?"

"Um…sure, but not quite." Straightening her shoulders, Lakota looked directly in the older woman's eyes and confided, "Those weren't isolated incidents."

Knowing the commander was an uncommonly private individual, the doctor recognized the significance of her personal disclosure. It was a show of immeasurable trust. Hoping to help the younger woman, she continued with another query, "Are you experiencing any side effects?

A puzzled look flashed across the commander's face. "What? Me? No…none at all."

Feeling as though she was stating the obvious, Chakwas pointed out, "You know, I'm sure Liara would be a better source of information on this subject, then I."

"Maybe, but it's for her benefit that I ask. She said a human mind naturally fights such a connection, like a knee jerk reaction. I need to know, for my own peace of mind, that there's no possibility our…time together…could harm her. I need to make sure. And I wanted to ask someone I trust…not some extranet site or ship scuttlebutt."

Finally understanding the reason for the commander's concern, Chakwas nodded her head affirmation. "I'll do some research. On the side, of course. If I come across anything interesting, I'll let you know."

"Thank you, Evelyn," Lakota's eyes met the older woman's, "…for everything."

Lakota rarely used the doctor's first name, but in this case, formal titles and last names seemed too sterile, too trite. She knew the trust-worthy doctor edited her medical file in some fashion, thereby putting her own career in jeopardy. And now the older woman was doing her an intensely personal favor, and as such, Lakota attempted to acknowledge her gratitude and deepening respect by addressing her friend properly.

Adorning an elegant smile, the doctor courteously accepted the thankfulness. "You're welcome."

Since Lakota joined the _Normandy_, Chakwas only witnessed the young, solitary woman enjoy friendships born from camaraderie and blood. She was focused, driven and seemed to have her sights set on ambitions that did not include romantic attachments. Her strength, charisma and natural leadership ability drew people in like bees to honey, but the veil of mystery surrounding her kept most at bay, swimming in an enamored quandary. She recognized Lieutenant Alenko's romantic interest, but never saw the commander return the affection. Chakwas was also aware of the commander's developing relationship with Liara, but the fact that Lakota had _allowed_ herself a personal dalliance held the greater significance to the doctor.

"Now...since we are off the record…"

Intrigued, Lakota pandered, "Yes?"

"Commander, how long has it been since you've just 'let yourself go' in a relationship?"

A perplexed look blanketed Lakota's face. "I don't understand the question."

"Exactly my point. It's easy for all of us to forget that you," the doctor lifted both hands and made quotation marks in the air, "…'The Great Commander Shepard,' is human and has needs of her own." Narrowing her eyes, the older woman's voice grew stern. "_You_ can't afford to forget that though."

Lakota dipped her head in silent affirmation.

Driving her message home, the doctor added, "If you don't allow yourself to appreciate some happiness, how will _you_ know what you are fighting for?"

Lakota considered the doctor's words before responding. "I understand what you are saying, but not everyone signed on for this type of adventure. I did, of course. Literally. I signed up to be an Alliance soldier. Hell, I practically forced the Council to make me a Spectre. I willingly jumped into the chaos with my eyes wide open. But Liara…she was pulled into it by forces beyond her control." Lakota sighed ruefully. "This isn't exactly the best time, you know. And timing is everything…"

Making a point, Chakwas asked, "When _would_ be a good time, _Spectre_?"

Lakota forced herself not to glance over at the med lab door that housed the resident asari scientist. Instead, her concerned eyes focused back on the doctor. "I'm just not sure it's fair of me to ask anymore of her."

"Honestly, Commander, for someone so aware of enemy lines and battle strategy, you can be completely oblivious to what's going on around you."

"Huh?"

"I don't think you could _keep _Dr. T'Soni away."

"Oh…," Since receiving the orders to hunt the geth, Lakota's sole focus- when thinking about the asari scientist, had encompassed scenarios involving Liara's eventual departure. She had not yet considered the fact that Liara may want to continue on the journey. The commander's demeanor shifted visibly while her thoughts travelled down the new, enthralling possibility. A delighted smile adorned her lips as she happily repeated,"Oh…"

"Just think on my words commander."

"I will, Doc. Thanks again."

Her mind now cheerfully wrapped in musings of tonight's rendezvous with Liara, Lakota made her way toward the exit door.

"Oh…Commander…"

Turning around, Lakota saw a small projectile flying her way and instinctively caught it with her right hand. Grinning broadly, she tipped her head toward her friend in thankful acknowledgement of the gift: a root beer flavored lollipop.

"Don't be a stranger, Commander."


	9. Pillow Talk 2: Refluffed

**Author's Note:**

Bolstered by my own romantic nature, this chapter became an experiment. Basically, I am attempting to weave a scene of sensual exploration into this vignette about Liara and Lakota, but at the same time, avoid exhibitionism. If successful, the reader will experience a moment or two in which they lose themselves in the "sight, taste, touch, sound" of the story… if done well…they will get lost more than once.

An argument could be made that I've tried this before, and while that may be true, this time I am writing with a specific _intent_.

So…consider yourself warned. [big grin]

Thanks for reading! And thank you to those who review; your comments are both helpful and motivating! Kudos!

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Pillow Talk 2: Refluffed

"Psst…

"Mmmmm…"

"Hey…you awake?"

"No," murmured a sleepy, asari scientist.

"I can't sleep."

Groaning in protest to being woken, Liara languidly rolled over to lie along Lakota's right side. Wrapping her arms tightly around her human lover, she snuggled into the luxurious warmth of the silken, supple body and attempted to ride lulling waves back into slumber.

"I need a skylight in my cabin. Be nice to see the stars while we're lying in bed."

Sleepily registering a peripheral noise, Liara sighed softly. "Hmmmm…?"

"Music would be nice, too. I should get something for the room."

Still floating in a lethargic haze, Liara yawned and lazily burrowed her face into the crook of Lakota's neck. Fighting the tendrils of reality marshalling to bring her consciousness to the surface, she intertwined her left leg between Lakota's and nestled further onto her lover's bare form.

Instinctively tightened her left arm around the lithe body enveloping her, Lakota let her right hand trace a leisurely, nondescript path over the scientist's sensual curves and smooth skin. A soft, blue hue, emanating from the monitor on the desk, faintly bathed the room in an ethereal aura and allowed for Liara's form to be highlighted in an enchanting luminance.

"Maybe a bigger bed. And I know I don't have a lot of _stuff_, but I suppose I could make my cabin a little more personable."

Appling a full-length, feline-like stretch to her being, Liara abandoned her hopeless quest to return to the dreamweave. Instead, she shifted so she was lying fully astride Lakota with her chin resting on the commander's chest. Although inches away, Liara was scarcely able to distinguish the silhouetted contours of her lover's face.

"And maybe some fish. I've always liked fish."

"Shepard," remarked Liara, drowsily.

"Yes?"

"You are rambling."

"…Oh…"

"Something wrong?"

"Wrong? No. Nothing's wrong. What could possibly be wrong? Everything's fine. Just fine. Can't sleep is all."

"Commander…"

"Doctor?"

"You are a terrible liar."

"Hah…" Donning a playfully indignant tone, Lakota said, "Says_ you_…the woman who has trouble understand human idioms."

The scientist rolled her eyes, and sighed in amused exasperation. "Shepard."

"Yes?"

"Now, you are deflecting."

Taking up a childishly defensive timbre, Lakota retorted, "I am not. You're just being analytical. I think you're the one who is deflecting."

"And _**that**_ would be your attempt at circumventing."

Although the darkness of the room kept most facial expressions hidden, Liara could tell Lakota was pouting, so she pried a little further. "Tell me."

"It's silly."

"Tell me anyway."

Greeted by silence, Liara took charge of the whimsical situation. She casually lifted herself up, forearms braced on the bed, fully straddling her lover. Her head bent down nuzzling into Lakota's neck and breathing in her scent of sandalwood laced with a hint of sage. Since their first intimate encounter, Liara was smitten with this surprising sensual aspect of Lakota. The unmistakable fragrance carried sumptuous, exotic memories and ignited a desire so primal that it invoked a low growl from the asari.

"Goddess," she whispered melodically, "you are…_**intoxicating**_."

Her lips found Lakota's neck, and she placed doting kisses just under the jaw line while the commander's hands roamed freely across her backside massaging every inch touched. Enjoying the visceral dance ignited between them, Liara left a trail of lingering pecks down her lover's neck, but stopped when she felt the rhythmic drumbeat of a pulse on her lips. She knew this was a sensitive spot for Lakota. A favored spot. And when she gently bit down, she was rewarded with a pleasurable gasp.

"Liara...," moaned Lakota, "…wait…"

Her lover's hands didn't stop their sultry exploration of her body, so Liara didn't stop her expedition, either. Retracing her route along the left side of the commander's neck, she nibbled and bit tasting the salty sweetness of Lakota's skin. Her tongue traced a moist, heated path up to Lakota's ear, and then she gradually backtracked by blowing a feathery, cooling breeze on the newly anointed skin, soliciting a sharp intake of breath.

Lakota found it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the provocative asari lasciviously enthralling her. Overwhelmed by the delightfully arousing sensations coursing through her mind and body, she valiantly attempted to bring her focus elsewhere.

"Liara…wait….stop…"

Ignoring Lakota's plaintive and less than convincing pleas, Liara continued her art of tantalizing seduction. She knew the sensitive places, knew the enticing motions and knew the dulcet words to say. And there was one such spot on her lover where the mesmerizing trinity was woven together.

Placing her soft lips against Lakota's ear, her warm breath heightening her lover's senses, she suggestively hummed, "Shepard…"

Reflexively, Lakota gasped and dug her fingers into the asari's back as the rhythmic undertones of her name deliciously reverberated down her spine

Without pause, Liara invitingly whispered into Lakota's ear the one word she knew would drive her lover over the edge. "Please…"

Moaning softly, Lakota instinctively bit down on the asari's shoulder as her body arched in a languishing need for further contact. Slipping toward the hallowed point of no return, Lakota gathered her last vestiges of willpower, placed her hands on her lover's shoulders, and gently halted the amorous procession.

Finding it difficult to think let alone talk, Lakota brokenly fumbled, "You're …not….listening."

"Well," the scientist astutely purred, "you were trying to distract me earlier. It worked, Commander. I am adequately distracted."

Liara sought to resume her beguiling overtures, but the spellbound Lakota held her firm grip on the asari's shoulders and determinedly shook her head. Taking in a deep, grounding breath, she strove to rein in her untamed, lustful desires.

"This," Lakota hissed through obvious arousal, "is serious."

With a feral smirk, Liara seductively intoned, "So am I."

Endeavoring to shift the asari's attention, Lakota pleaded, "Doctor."

"Commander?"

"I just wanted..."

Lakota knew it was now or never, but she'd always felt that walking on broken glass or hot coals was less of a danger than opening herself up to heartache and disappointment. This was about personal risk assessment, and managing physical pain was much easier to contemplate than jumping headlong into an uncharted abyss of emotional vulnerability. Nonetheless, she put aside her age-old fears and ventured to share what was on her mind. "I wanted to know what you might have planned in the next few weeks."

A curious frown manifested as Liara probed, "What do you mean?"

Relaxing her hold on her lover's shoulders, Lakota mumbled, "The Normandy will be headed to geth space soon…"

"So I have heard."

"Well…um…" Sounding uncharacteristically ill at ease, Lakota hesitantly inquired, "Do you have any plans? Will you be going back to your Prothean research? Or maybe Thessia?"

"Commander, are you trying to get rid of me?" challenged Liara, playfully.

Shocked by the accusation, Lakota recoiled slightly. "What? No, I…"

"Because I do not work for you…"

"Of course not, I know that…"

"That means you cannot fire me."

Even in the darkness, the dimwitted confusion was etched plainly across Lakota's shadowed face. "Fire you?"

"Technically, you cannot order me to do anything."

"Um…I suppose not…," sputtered Lakota. She was clearly thrown off-balance by the asari's emphatic declarations.

A mischievous smile graced Liara's lips as she took advantage of her lover's befuddlement and the physically dominant position she possessed while lying on top of Lakota.

"So…," began the scientist, "to clarify…"

"I do not work for you." Liara punctuated the statement by kissing Lakota's right cheek.

"You cannot fire me." Liara kissed Lakota's left cheek.

"You cannot order me around." Liara reverently kissed Lakota's chin noticing her lover's shaded expression shifting from astonishment to dawning realization.

"Therefore," pausing for effect, Liara waited until her wanton gaze met Lakota's hopeful stare, "I feel I should inform you that I will be staying on the_ Normandy _when you embark into geth space."

To finalize her pronouncement, Liara leaned in and tenderly brushed her lips upon Lakota's. Pressing in to deepen the kiss, she was rewarded with the commander's lips parting and the feel of her silken tongue making contact. An erotic play began between their supple, warm lips and their moist tongues weaving themselves together in tantalizing dance that felt like summer and tasted of ambrosia. Each subtle move roused their yearning, each satiny caress teased their craving, and each shallow moan pulled them closer toward the breathtaking rise of succulent oblivion.

Bewitched by the all-consuming sensations; Liara melted her lustful, hungry form further into Lakota giving way to an intuitively choreographed exchange of energy. Their bodies, driven by a fierce, needful ache, moved together in a primal union born of longing and insatiable desire. Their intrepid fingers skillfully kneaded familiar sensual zones and lit fire to thousands of throbbing, electrified nerve endings. Acting as an aphrodisiac, these sensory wildfires tingled across sensitized skin and spiraled together into a blissful, passionate tempest which threatened to engulf them both in a visceral delirium.

Lakota's mind, thoroughly muddled by staggering desire, slowly put the pieces together. She hadn't permitted herself to consider the option that Liara might stay on, because if it didn't come to fruition, the letdown and sorrow would have been too heavy to bear. But now, Liara's continued presence was guaranteed, so the oppressive feeling of inevitable dread had magically vanished.

"Whoa…wait…." Shaking her head as though clearing mental cobwebs, Lakota attempted to voice her understanding. "Did you just say you're staying on? Are you sure? I want you to, but if…"

Interrupting the commander's cute, but pointless tangent, Liara grumbled, "Shepard…"

"Yeah?

"You think too much."

Still processing the unanticipated news, Lakota happily agreed. "Okay. But still. If…"

"Shepard…." Once again, Liara abruptly halted the commander's meandering.

"Yeah?"

"You talk too much."

"Ok…but," protested Lakota light-heartedly, "if I don't talk, how will you know how I feel?"

Provocatively leaning in, Liara gently touched her lips upon Lakota's ear and, in velvety-sweet undertones, commanded, "Show me."


	10. Engineering Talk

Engineering Talk

Lakota strode confidently into engineering wearing an all-black, prototype infiltrator suit that covered her form, head to toe. She and Tali had been collaborating on the experimental blend of synthetic and electronic technology over the last few months. The skintight weave of para-aramid synthetic fibers and nano-circuitry closely resembled a twenty-first century wet suit. The flexible cloth offered a range of motion that could not be matched by any ceramic plated construction, and its exceptional heat resistance and high tensile strength granted it unprecedented durability when compare to similar flexible textiles.

In order to offer greater protection from gun fire, slash attacks and hand to hand combat; the forearms, shins and joint areas had been reinforced with a combination of thin, laminated fibers and tiny, ceramic plating. Although considered a one-piece suit, the pull-on hood, custom-fitted gloves and reinforced boots were removable. A fully adjustable utility belt, fitted with detachable pouches and holster, wrapped around her waist. The floating pad design allowed its load to be perfectly positioned over the hip-bones for maximum comfort and weight distribution.

Lakota pulled off the sleek hood and a tumble of long, jet-black black hair, uncharacteristically free-flowing, draped wildly over her shoulders. In a cheerful tone that accurately matched her mood, she boisterously greeted the quarian engineer. "Hey, Tali! You have a chance to look at those new suit specs?"

Taking notice of the _Normandy _commander's unexpected entry, Tali looked up from the schematics she had been studying and casually replied, "Hello, Shepard. Yes, it's an amazing design you've drawn up, but…I've got bad news." Hesitantly the quarian relayed, "The technology needed for the added capabilities doesn't exist."

"Well, that's why I came to you." Unfazed optimism shined in the commander's eyes. "You're the smartest engineer I know. If the technology doesn't exist yet, I have faith you can figure a way around it. Or through it."

"Thank you, Shepard. I…I didn't know… That means a lot to me." Tali was taken aback by the direct praise, but attempted to hide her surprise by changing the subject. "But we'll need to go over the added parameters of the suit…you know…before I can really get an idea of the type of power source needed."

Lakota nodded her head in silent affirmation as she crossed the distance between them. "First, I don't consider it armor. In many ways, it's more like a quarian environmental suit crossed with," pausing for effect, Lakota flashed a cheesy grin, and finished, "… a pair of silk pajamas."

"Shepard," Tali sighed haughtily, hands perched on her hips, "if you want me to help, you need to be serious…"

Lakota laughed out loud at the quarian's reaction. She knew the engineer took her work very seriously and any teasing would generate a displeased reaction. Waving her hands defensively in front of her, a bemused smile lit up her face, and she quickly acquiesced. "Okay, okay… you're just too fun _**not**_ to razz."

Tali shook her head in what appeared to be exasperation, but from the subtle shake of her shoulders, Lakota could tell she was quietly laughing, as well.

Even though the _Normandy _was docked at the Citadel, the engineering room was unusually desolate. Lakota had given a direct order for the engineering staff to take shore leave for the day and no latitude to disobey was given. The action served two purposes: the crew got some much needed free time before heading out on their next mission and she got some alone time with Tali. Chief Engineer Adams brought it to her attention that the quarian had been notably reclusive, so Lakota wanted some uninterrupted quality time with her.

Stepping up to the control panel, the commander inspected the diagram displayed on the built in, table top monitor. After a few moments' preview, Lakota summarized her thoughts. "I'm looking for a slim line design with the ability to take some damage, but it's not meant for heavy, direct assault. I'd also like to add some thicker enhancements on the forearms and shins, so they can withstand puncturing, but I want to avoid added bulk."

"What about shields?"

"I'd like to be able to add shields, but the ideal situation is one that I would never have to use them. The most important focus should be on the cloaking capabilities. I want to be able to cloak for long periods of time and not be detectable by physical or technological means."

Catching the engineer's subtle nod, Lakota continued. "But it needs to stay highly flexible, as well, so no add-ons that would impede movement or upset physical balance." Lifting up the mask, she further detailed her needs. "The headpiece is more of a full face hood equipped with a breather filter. And the goggles should be able to see across all spectrums of light."

"Well, you sure don't ask for much," teased Tali. "Are you positive that's it?"

"Well," Lakota smirked, "if you could add a massage feature."

"Oh…_**anything**_ for you, Commander."

"Nobody likes a smartass."

"That's not quite true," Tali innocently quipped. "I've noticed at least one, blue-skinned individual who seems to have taken an interest in your ass-ish nature." The amused tone radiated from the quarian filling the space between them with a vibrant, light-hearted merriment.

"Guess you're able to see more out of that helmet than I thought," goaded Lakota playfully.

Tali snickered. "You have no idea, Commander. You have no idea. "

Bringing the conversation back on track, Lakota pointed to the drawing, and then asked, "So what do you think?"

Looking over the plans again, Tali confirmed her thoughts with a nod. "Yes, I see what you're trying to accomplish. It's ambitious."

"But do you think you can help?"

"It will take some time, but I may be able to re-engineer some quarian biosuit abilities to fit the nanoelectronic design. Maybe add a few more protective features as well."

Tali had been a member of Lakota's crew since the hunt for Saren began. During that time period, a relationship based on mutual respect and trust had been honed in the midst of gunfire and life or death experiences. Those experiences offered a unique platform to become acquainted with an individual. A platform that left no room for false pretenses or hidden agendas. A platform that illuminated an individual's true nature without a word needing to be uttered or a facial expression to be seen. And throughout this span of time, the Spectre had the added caveat of becoming acutely versed in the subtle nuances of quarian, nonverbal communication.

So although the environmental suit hid facial features, Lakota sensed an uncharacteristic aloofness interwoven in the quarian's body language and snappy remarks. Concerned, she inquired, "Everything okay with you, Tali?"

"What? Oh…yes. Of course…Everything's all right with me," was the lackluster reply.

"You know, those masks hide a lot, but they can't hide the tone of your voice."

"Shepard…" Her whole form seemed to deflate as Tali sighed, "… I…I've been thinking of returning to the Flotilla."

"Oh, I see." Lakota knew the day would come when the quarian would head back to the Migrant Fleet. With the geth data in hand, Tali had an auspicious Pilgrimage gift and would be enthusiastically welcomed by any captain in the quarian armada. Saddened by the prospect of Tali's impending departure, the Spectre somberly asked, "When do you think you'll be leaving?"

"What? Oh…I don't know. I'm just thinking about it. It was more of a random thought really. You know…a 'what if'…Nothing serious...don't listen to me." Taking a deep breath, a flustered Tali exhaled loudly. "Oh, Keelah… I'm rambling."

Sensing the turmoil, Lakota prodded, "What is it, Tali?"

The quarian's posture was pensive and her hands were fidgeting as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I am questioning if it's time to go back," she answered honestly. "Is my gift adequate? I know the information on the geth will be valuable to the fleet…but it will take years, maybe decades, to decipher…. Maybe something more relevant is needed. And what will I find when I return? I've changed so much since I left."

"Change is part of life, Tali. Every time you encounter something or someone new, you shift and grow in the wake of that experience. At least, I hope to grow. For me, growth is akin to freedom." Emphasis was woven into the next statement by the strength of Lakota's voice. "We can't choose our external circumstances, but we can choose how we respond to them."

"You don't understand, Shepard," grumbled the quarian. "The Flotilla…my family…I'm just not sure… I don't feel ready yet."

"What don't I understand? Explain it to me."

Tali was silent for a few moments before blurting, "Great things are expected of me. I…I…don't want to disappoint the Admiralty board."

In that brief moment, Lakota knew the real reason behind the engineer's doubts and concerns. It had very little to do with the Fleet and very much to do with Tali's father. "Oh…," Lakota smoothly reasoned, "so the individual who started this whole ball rolling isn't worthy of returning home?"

"What are you talking about?" challenged the quarian.

"The way I see it, all of _**this:**_ the mission, the hunt for Saren, stopping Sovereign…it all started with _**you**_. Without you, none of it would have happened."

Tali balked in disbelief. "I don't… Explain yourself."

"You're the one who intercepted the data about Saren working with the geth," pointed out the commander. "Because of that information, I was promoted to the Spectres and sent off to track him. Without that information, I don't think the Council would have budged."

"I barely escaped with my life!" protested the quarian hotly. "Fist's men almost killed me. I fail to see how that helped anyone."

Crossing her arms and shaking her head, Lakota thoughtfully observed the argumentative engineer. "But they didn't kill you. And that's beside the point. _**The point **_is that _**you**_, Tali'Zora nar Rayya, unassisted and unaided, _**you **_took a stand and, in the face of adversity, _**you**_ fought back. How many others- quarian or otherwise, would have taken the time, risked their life, to get that information into the proper hands?"

Tali considered Lakota's words before whispering, "I don't…I never thought about it like that…"

"Tali…" Lakota relaxed her stance by unfolding her arms and waited until the quarian met her gaze. "There is no way that the Fleet, the Admiralty board…or your father…would be stupid enough to be disappointed in you."

Embarrassed by the passionate overture, Tali tilted her head down as if examining the floor, then softly mumbled in gratitude. "Thanks, Shepard…"

"Not only that, but you chose to travel with an Alliance crew in order see things through. An all-human crew. You knew discrimination would exist, but you joined anyway. That shows how much courage you have. In my book, you are a very brave individual…" Lakota paused so the words could sink in before roguishly adding, "…you know….for a quarian."

Shaking her head in whimsical amusement, Tali returned the compliment. "Well, you are an intelligent individual…you know…for a human."

For the second time during their conversation, Lakota mirthfully laughed out loud.

Caught up in her thoughts of home, a nagging question finally got the best of Tali. "Shepard, do you really have no family?"

Taken aback by the abrupt inquiry, the commander contemplated the engineer for a moment. In those few seconds, she chose to follow her instincts and do something extraordinarily rare, she answered the personal question honestly without circumventing. "I never knew my mother or father nor had blood siblings, if that's what you mean. But I prefer to think that family goes beyond blood ties. I feel that I choose my family."

"Ah…yes…" Understanding Lakota's outlook, Tali disclosed, "That is similar to the quarian outlook on the Flotilla. Survival depends on our cooperation which means the bonds between quarians tend to be very strong, compared to a more individualistic race like the krogan. Loyalty, trust and cooperation are essential for our survival."

Thinking back to life in the Flotilla, Tali nostalgically reminisced, "Space is so limited that whole families often reside in one, small living quarters. It's ironic really. We are a condensed, nomadic species, but our environmental suits and weak immune systems keep us isolated even amongst ourselves."

Maneuvering around in the prototype suit, Lakota humbly reflected. "I don't know if I could live in a suit day in and day out. Do you ever get a chance to take yours off?"

"It's uncommon. We're in our suit even among family. The most intimate thing we can do is link our suits. We get sick at first and then adapt….It's our most sacred form of trust…of acceptance."

"To know that such an action will cause illness…seems like that would be difficult to do," remarked Lakota.

Shrugging her shoulders in a non-committal gesture, the engineer elaborated further. "We have to think about other people. _Always_. If we don't think about the needs of the other crew, people could get hurt. Maybe even killed. Death from an airborne virus is an unfortunate reality aboard the Flotilla." Her voice barely a whisper, Tali revealed, "That's how my mother died."

Mindful of the engineer's abrupt melancholy, Lakota sympathized. "To be so isolated, yet at the same time surrounded by people…I think it would be a bit disconcerting."

"Funny, I thought you'd be the one who understands the most."

"How so?"

"Well, there are many forms of armor, Shepard." Tilting her head Tali confronted the commander. "The one most difficult to breach is the one you can't see."

Lakota's unreadable stare filled the space with an uncomfortable stillness. As if attempting to fill the noiseless void, the pulse from the ambient light fixtures grew exponentially as each second ticked by.

Flustered by her own unexpected brazenness, Tali broke the silence with a stammered apology. "I…I am sorry. I have said too much."

Ruefully shrugging her shoulder, the commander was once again reminded of the quarian's genuineness and honestly. "No, Tali, you're fine. I just don't like being put on the spot." Flashing an affectionate smile, Lakota gently advised, "You should never have to apologize for speaking the truth."

Turning away from the Spectre, Tali walked over to the railing that bordered the offline engine. She surveyed the Tantalus Drive Core which powered the Normandy's stealth system. She was still fascinated by how such a large piece of experimental equipment, proportionally about twice the size of any other ship's core, managed to fit it into such a compact vessel.

Her gaze fixated on the engineering marvel, Tali shyly questioned, "Shepard…that data on the geth… You could have gotten into a lot of trouble with the Alliance. Why did you risk it…for me…a quarian…?"

Lakota walked over to the railing and stood next to the engineer, her line of sight followed the quarian's which continued to admire the sleek lines of the drive core. "Tali…,"she soothed, "…come on… You're more than just 'a quarian' to me. We've fought side by side. In the face of the scariest enemy the galaxy has ever encountered, you had my back. I always knew you'd be there, if I ever needed you." With pride and heartfelt affection, Lakota confided, "You're family."

Unable to hide her astonishment, Tali fumbled, "I… thank you, Shepard. I…I didn't expect…. Thank you."

"And besides…," sassed the commander fondly, "it's not like you couldn't have found a way to hack into the network and get it."

"Keelah, no wonder Liara hits you so often." Tali backed up her statement by turning and then playfully punching Lakota in the shoulder.

They both stood in the moment enjoying the aura of friendship and camaraderie enveloping them. They each recognized the uniqueness of the moment and, in this time of ever-changing fates and uncertainty, the rare serenity it offered. Like thirsty desert nomads, they drank in the soothing tranquility as though it was a bountiful gift of cool, spring water.

Reluctantly interrupting the quietude, Lakota inquired, "So…I don't know if you've heard the scuttlebutt about the next mission…"

"Something about geth space…"

"Hah...so much for classified information. But yes...the Council wants the _Normandy_ to explore the Omega Nebula for geth activity." Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, Lakota glanced sideways at Tali. "You know…we may run across some more valuable intel on the them."

Perking up, the engineer took the conspiratorial bait and ran with it. "Oh…yes…as I mentioned, the data I currently have will take years to decipher. What's a few more months compared to the prospect of finding more time sensitive material?" Looking over at the commander, she slyly remarked, "You know…if there is still room for a quarian engineer on your mission."

"My thoughts exactly," concurred Lakota happily. "And there will always be room for you onboard the _Normandy_, Tali. Always."

Her mood visibly lightening, Tali buoyantly intoned, "Thank you, Shepard. Until then I should…you know…do something. Repairs, for the mission. Work on the suit. Something…"

Nodding in agreement, Lakota turned and headed toward the doors. Before she got to the archway, she spun around and, with great fondness, repeated her earlier declaration. "I meant what I said Tali. You're part of my family." Squaring her shoulders and straightening her posture in what could only be deemed as a resolute, protectively ominous stance, Lakota pledged, "And I'll do anything for my family."

Adoration was woven in the tenor of Tali's voice. "There are times when I'm not sure what you're made of, Shepard… Charm or menace? Equal parts, I think."

Lakota grinned broadly. "I can live with that."

The Spectre headed out the doors for a second time, and for a second time, she abruptly turned around. "Oh…I almost forgot…" She tossed a data chip to the quarian, and then quickly exited the room.

Tali caught the item mid-air. Inspecting the non-descript chip, she eventually plugged it into her omni-tool: it was the latest, chart-topping, techno dance music.

The quarian started dancing.


	11. Table Talk

**Table Talk**

Commander Lakota Shepard walked briskly through the empty corridors of the _Normandy SR-1_. During the Battle of the Citadel, the deft maneuvering of the _Normandy's_ pilot, Joker, kept the frigate from being inflicted by any sizable damage, but the ship had still been docked for more than a month. With the repairs and minor upgrades to the prototype ship completed, the crew had been focused on final equipment calibrations and restocking supplies for their next mission into geth space. Yesterday those final preparations had been concluded and the commander had given two days leave to all crew members. Taking into consideration three rotating shifts and a skeleton crew remaining to monitor the ship's functions and perform routine maintenance, the _Normandy_ would remain dry docked for an additional week.

Lakota had taken some verbal heat from the Citadel Council for the additional delay, but the Spectre had experienced much worse from them in the past. For her, the ability to frustrate the group that dismissed her warnings about the Reapers and subsequently attempted to bury any evidence of their existence was one of her job's simple pleasures. Lakota understood the significance of being the first human Spectre, but that appointment didn't mean her distaste for bureaucracy and political maneuvering magically disappeared with the new uniform. If anything, her newfound autonomy added to her animosity regarding the Council's authority over her. To many, this apathy seemed to be in contrast with her being a soldier in a military entrenched with authority figures. But Lakota's issue wasn't with authority—she'd proven that she could take orders and also be the one issuing them. Lakota's true issue was with the blind obedience given to people in positions of power—people who hadn't earned the respect that was automatically given to them by others. The Council had yet to earn her respect.

The familiar swoosh of sliding doors was heard as Lakota stepped through the threshold and descended the CIC stairwell. It was 0700, but the commander was stiff and lethargic from being up all night working on status reports for the bureaucracy that authorized payments and requisitions. She'd started on the reports at 1900, but had lost track of time—which was easy to do on a ship woven within an artificial environment—so she was grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs and the attempt to shake the sleepiness from her limbs.

Lakota was casually dressed in sleek, charcoal grey cargo pants, a matching grey short-sleeved shirt and a pair of black military boots. Her crew-collared shirt which showed no signs of being worn all night was highlighted with white sleeves and a N7 marking on the left shoulder. The smooth, durable fabric hugged her form so well that it looked as though it had been tailored to fit. When she reached the bottom platform, her eyes scanned the almost deserted Mess and caught sight of her prey in the _Normandy's_ makeshift kitchen.

"Liara, I got your message." The Spectre walked across the room toward the asari standing in the middle of a varying assembly of cooking gear. "Is there a reason you wanted to meet here instead of…" Lakota's mouth stopped mid-sentence when she caught the scent of a deliciously familiar aroma, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Oh praise the gods... Is that…" She quickened her pace—almost leaping to the automatic drip dispenser on a counter near her lover and put her nose next to the carafe, breathing in deeply. "…coffee…"

"Yes, Commander. Coffee." Liara was wearing her standard green and white jumpsuit and stood next to the portable range prepping some food to be cooked. Her back faced the commander, but she had turned her head and smiled affectionately when she heard the Spectre's awe-filled voice.

Lakota glanced quickly over to Liara, her eyes almost pleading. "Is it…real? I mean 'real-real'?"

"Yes again, Commander," confirmed the scientist, "_real_ coffee. _Real _beans plucked from a _real_ tree that were dried by someone, packaged by someone, and then ground by _me_ minutes before brewing."

Lakota knelt in front of the coffee maker, her pale green eyes wide with incredulity and her nose almost touching the counter top. She watched with single-mined focus, like a child eyeing candy, while the black liquid cascaded drop by drop into the decanter. "I don't know what forms need to be filled out, but you Dr. T'Soni, have officially elevated your status to _goddess_."

"Well, I feel the need to mention that technically, they are seeds not beans. And…," said Liara, disappointment echoing in her words, "they are from Eden Prime. I am sorry to say, accruing coffee beans from Earth proved to be too difficult."

"Don't apologize, Doctor." Lakota was still savoring all the sensory nuances of the brewing beverage. "I think I've died and gone to heaven… or the Elysian Fields… or Valhalla." Turning her head in order to catch Liara in her periphery, she asked, "How did you do it? Buying organic coffee from Earth or Eden Prime is like asking the Citadel Council for a favor. It would be easier to go through the Omega 4 Relay and return without a scratch."

"I have my ways, Commander."

"Oh, I am well aware of your ways, Doctor… and I like this one, too."

A knowing smile graced Liara's face. "I hope you do not mind, but I borrowed your personal coffee maker."

One of Lakota's peculiar and more expensive vices was her love of good coffee. Between purchasing organic, earth grown coffee and "aged-to-perfection" cognac, the commander had been known to layout a month's salary. "Don't apologize for that either. It's never been put to better use."

"I will return it to your quarters after we have breakfast."

"I'll help you, Doctor." Lakota straightened her posture and looked around for a mug. Spotting one, she reached for it and then winked at her lover. "I wouldn't want it to be misplaced."

"That is a wise precaution, Commander." Smirking, Liara added, "Perhaps you can show me exactly what spot would please you most."

"Once I finish these reports, maybe we'll explore some new… spots."

"I think that is an excellent idea."

While Lakota watched the machine continue to produce the hot, fragrant liquid, Liara continued her preparations. Amused by her lover's rapt attention, the scientist added, "Using the galley's brewer did not seem prudent—fifty cups of coffee is excessive, even for you."

"And expensive," mumbled the Spectre.

When the coffee finished brewing, Lakota reached over to the carafe and filled her mug. She held the hot beverage in both hands, bringing the warm cup to her lips, but did not drink. Instead she breathed in deeply, as if paying homage to some ambrosial nectar, holding her breath momentarily—savoring the unique scent of the strong, bitter brew—and then soothingly exhaled. "Few smells are as comforting to me as this."

Tearing her eyes off of the mug, Lakota asked, "Can I pour you a cup, Doctor?"

Liara raised her eyebrow skeptically, then replied, "Thank you, but I will pass, Commander. Much like the cognac you introduced me to, I believe coffee to be an acquired taste."

It was at that moment that another familiar fragrance caught the commander's attention and she looked over at her lover again, paying closer attention to what she was cooking. Liara had an assortment of ingredients out on the countertop, all of earth origin: flour, eggs, cinnamon, baking soda, canola oil, salt, white sugar, a bottle of vanilla and rolled oats. She was currently involved in sifting all of the flour into a large bowl and once complete, she sifted it a second time. Next to all of the ingredients was a portable gas cook top, upon which a cast iron skillet was heating.

It took the Commander all of two seconds to register what her lover was making. She immediately put her coffee down and walked over to Liara, wrapping her arms around the asari from behind—careful not to interrupt the cooking preparations. Lakota hugged her lover while simultaneously placing a quick kiss upon her cheek. "What did I do to earn such a reward as pancakes, my dear?"

"You are you, Commander. That is enough."

"But coffee? _And_ pancakes? These are some of my favorite foods, Doctor… and the ingredients are not easy to acquire." Lakota's lips brushed across the soft flesh of her lover's neck. "I'm not sure what I did to deserve this, but let me know and I'll do it again."

Liara inhaled sharply as her lover's lips suckled and teased a path along her neckline faceting upon the sensitive flesh just beneath her jaw. "Commander, if you want breakfast, I suggest you stop what you are doing and focus on your coffee." She turned her head slightly and shot Lakota a playful smirk. "Momentarily, of course. After breakfast you may recommence your advances."

Chuckling, Lakota said, "As you wish, Doctor." She released her hold and stepped to the side, grabbing her mug and leaning back upon the countertop. From that angle she was able to watch Liara work.

The asari was mesmerizing to behold. Her movements in the make-shift kitchen were both adept and minimalistic like a dancer whose fluidity was bound not only in the current pose but knowing how it blended into the next. Silently Lakota regarded and marveled at the skill her lover possessed—cracking eggs into a bowl with one hand, using a mortar and pestle to grind a stick of cinnamon into powder, testing the skillet's temperature with water droplets—all in between setting up a place at the dining table for them to eat.

"For future reference," said Lakota thoughtfully, "I am a horrible cook. I have a few dishes that I like to make, but you… something tells me you like to cook."

"Actually, I love to cook. I always have." To protect her hand from being burned, Liara wrapped a small towel around the skillet's handle. Afterward, she began adding various measurements of the dry ingredients—cinnamon powder, baking soda, salt, oats, white sugar—in the bowl with the flour and then mixed them together with a metal whisk. Glancing over at her lover, she asked, "You know that geography influences history, but it influences culture, as well?"

"Of course it does!" Lakota took a loving sip from her mug. "In Earth's history, if there had been no Nile River, would there have been an ancient Egypt? If Great Britain hadn't been an island, would it have became a sea power and developed a huge empire?"

"Exactly, Commander," agreed Liara. "I see cuisine as another tool of insight into a culture. Using another example from Earth, those who grew up on the American continent—specifically in the area of Puget Sound, were able to gather materials, fish and create everything the needed without the requirement of mobile housing and migratory lifestyles. They were able to trade valuable goods, such as sea shells with other inland people to get things like buffalo robes, without ever having to go hunt for themselves. This settled 'long house' lifestyle influenced their history and culture greatly."

Lakota nodded her head as Liara finished mixing all of the wet ingredients: oil, eggs, vanilla, and milk in one bowl, and then poured it into the bowl of dry ingredients and began stirring them together. When she was satisfied with the batter consistency and the heat of the skillet, Liara scooped a quarter cup of batter and poured it onto the pan spacing the pancakes about two inches apart making room for easier flipping.

"When I was at a Prothean dig site, more often than not, I was alone, so I made a game out of my time. I researched the planet I was going to visit, focused on the various cultural entities—sometimes it was on an advanced planet, sometimes it was on a rural planet."

"Because you love to research."

"Yes, I do, Commander." Liara shot a playful grin toward her lover. "And I am very good at it."

Once the pancakes had begun to bubble on the skillet, Liara used a metal spatula to flip them, displaying the golden brown color of the cooked side.

Amazed by the new discovery of her lover's adeptness in the kitchen, Lakota said, "I'm impressed, Doctor."

"Thank you, Commander. Just a few more minutes."

As the Spectre refilled her mug, Liara finished setting out the butter and maple syrup on the table. When the two pancakes were done cooking, she flipped them on a plate and covered it to keep them warm. Afterward, she poured two more circles of batter into the skillet and monitored their progress. Looking up from the pan, she commented, "You like studying mythology and folklore of a species because it gives you a basic understanding of their foundational makeup. Myths express the way people understand the universe and serve to explain a people's place in the universe."

"Yes," said Lakota, "I do." She wondered where Liara was going to take the conversation.

"There are often kernels of scientific truth underlying those myths," continued the asari scientist. "In a similar manner, Ethnobotanists study the interconnectedness of plants, people, and culture because the botanical wisdom accumulated by indigenous people throughout the galaxy has led to discoveries of new pharmaceuticals, chemical compounds, and myriads of other products."

Lakota kept quiet, sipping her coffee and waited for her lover to continue.

After flipping the pancakes, Liara said, "I would research the planet to find out the native cuisine, and if compatible with my physiology, then I would attempt to create authentic meals from their culture… in the very same way that they prepared their food. It was a challenge for me and saw it as a way to immerse myself in another culture."

Satisfied the pancakes were done, the asari placed them on a second plate, turned off the cook top and then walked over to the table—both plates of pancakes in her hands. "Over thousands of years, cultures develop a unique cuisine that builds upon the geographical region's food supply, imported foodstuffs, and the society's technology. This affects a society's physiological and biological makeup."

Liara set the plates down and then both she and the Spectre sat at the table across from one another. "In simpler terms, I believe the human expression is 'you are what you eat.'"

As if on cue, the commander's stomach growled. "So this is why you're able to cook an earth centric meal? You researched?"

"Yes, Commander. I have been planning this surprise for many weeks and today seemed like the perfect time to share it… since the mess is being used minimally and you have neglected both dinner and breakfast."

"I wouldn't say 'neglect'. It's more like 'was detained by asinine reports'. Plus, normally, breakfast in the mess isn't something to savor."

Liara watched as Lakota buttered both pancakes with a knife, poured some maple syrup upon them and then cut them into small square pieces with her fork and knife. When she brought a full forkful to her mouth and closed her lips around the small fluffy wedges, the commander's eyes became twice as large as normal. "Oh praise the gods again…" Then her eyes closed as she savored the buttery, sweet delicacy that seemed to melt in her mouth. "Forget goddess… you're now my minion and you will cook for me every day." Lakota opened her eyes, smiled mirthfully and then set about devouring the meal in front of her.

"So…you do not like the normal rations on the Normandy?" Liara mimicked Lakota's steps of buttering and placing a bit of syrup on her pancakes.

"I see military issue food in terms of the struggle between good and evil. God made the vittles but the devil made the cook."

Liara returned Lakota's enigmatic smile and they both continued to finish their meal in quiet contentedness. As she delighted in the experience of the new food, Liara gazed thoughtfully at the woman sitting across from her and marveled at the fact, at the rare phenomenon, that no uncomfortable silences existed between them. Much of their communication resided between the lines. A smile, a look, or tilt of the head… those gestures spoke volumes in a vacuum of silence. When mere words failed to fully express or capture the mixture of emotions and half-formed meanderings swirling in a heart and soul, another type of communication pierced the void.

With Lakota staring back at her, Liara was content to linger in the quiet—smiling, studying and wordlessly filling the space between with the sprightly exuberance bubbling within. By a single look, Liara could tell the commander felt the same way and that she was enjoying the gift given. It was in the way Lakota's whole-self smiled when she sipped her coffee or ate a forkful of pancake, as though the effervescent bliss of the moment reached her eyes and in turn, her eyes sparkled impishly, bestowing an ease of being to the private universe springing from their locked reverence.

Time stretched freely between an instant and eternity.

When the commander was done with her meal, she looked her lover directly in the eyes and reverently said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Commander."

Lakota sipped some more coffee, relishing in the full-flavored liquid as it slipped past her tongue. "The whole meal was wonderful, Liara. Saying 'thank you' doesn't even begin to emulate my gratitude."

"Well, after we finish with breakfast, you can thank me properly."

"That sounds great, but…" a pained expression flashed across Lakota's face as she said, "sadly… I need to finish sending the _Normandy's_ status reports to both the Alliance and the Council." Shaking her head, she added, "I'm sorry."

"I thought you were finishing those last night?"

"Yes, well… things got a little more complicated. I mean, listen to this…" Lakota took another sip from her mug and then read from her data pad. "And I quote, 'the thing blew up when we threw the switch.' I can't send that to the Alliance. But what the hell am I suppose to say instead?"

"Preliminary operational tests were inconclusive," said Liara matter-of-factly.

"Oh… that's _GOOD_, Doctor."

"Thank you, Commander. I have been assisting Dr. Chakwas with her reports, as well."

"Okay… what about this one… 'It worked, Commander, and boy were we surprised'."

"That one is easy. Tell them that the test results were extremely gratifying."

"I need to keep you on the payroll." Lakota immediately edited her report. After a moment, she looked up and asked, "Any idea how to tell them that the shield modifications the Alliance engineers sent are not compatible with our current system. Telling them that we threw the whole concept out and are starting from scratch isn't going to go over well."

A familiar voice sounded out from the stairwell. "I can help you there, Shepard." Tali'Zorah walked in the room and headed toward the pair. "Tell them that modifications are underway to correct certain minor difficulties. That always worked on the Flotilla."

"Tali! Thanks for that. Care to join us?"

"What about me, Commander?" Garrus was a few steps behind quarian.

"Absolutely. You can both help me finish this report." Chuckling, Lakota shook her head and once again read from her data pad. "We all know what this one means—'A number of different approaches are being tried.'"

Liara looked puzzled and upon seeing her quizzical look, Tali and Garrus, after sitting down at the bench-like table, answered in tandem. "We don't know where we're going, but we're moving." Everyone at the table laughed aloud.

Lakota glanced up from editing the report. "Oh Tali, I got a reply back from the Alliance regarding the fluctuation you and Chief Adams noticed in the stealth drive… this is their reply: 'An extensive report is being prepared on a fresh approach to the problem.'"

"What? That answers nothing!" the quarian complained.

"Oh sure it does," sniggered Lakota. "It tells us that the Alliance just hired three guys… and they'll let them kick the problem around for a while."

"What else do you have in that report, Shepard?" asked Garrus. "I've got some official sounding ridiculousness on calibrations."

"Hmmm…" Lakota perused her report and then said, "It was discovered by accident."

Shaking his head Garrus said, "No… you can't tell them that. Instead say, 'developed after years of intensive research.'"

"That's good." Still looking at her data pad, the commander suddenly rolled her eyes and asked, "And when I have to tell the Alliance that the only guy who understood the thing just quit?"

Liara had gotten up from the table and begun to clean the mess on the counter top. She stopped momentarily and said, "Then you tell them that the entire concept is unworkable."

"Or you have Tali take a look at it," Garrus quipped.

"But the machine is still working," said the commander.

"Haven't you ever heard Tali's motto, Shepard?" said the turian. "'If it isn't broken, take it apart and fix it.'"

Tali crossed her arms. "I have a shotgun…"

Lakota finished editing her report, stood up and then while yawning stretched her arms above her head. "Finally! The blasted reports are done!" She looked over at Liara who was still cleaning up the counter and asked, "You're going to save that batter for later, right? It'll keep in the refrigeration unit?"

"Yes, Commander, to both of your questions."

"Excellent. Those pancakes were delicious, but I'm far too tired to eat any more right now."

"You know why we didn't get any food, Tali?" asked Garrus playfully.

Tali sighed. "Of course. Because it's incompatible with our digestive systems."

His eyes shifting between the human and the asari, Garrus said, "That's not why. It's because…"

"Garrus…" Lakota interrupted before he could make a lewd comment about her relationship—she knew how his sarcastic mind worked. She had just picked up the dirty plates and the threatening look she shot his way could only be seen by him.

"…it's incompatible with our digestive system," finished the turian.

Tali shook her head and mumbled, "That's what I just said."

Garrus leaned across the table, whispering so only Tali could hear, "But that's not what you said earlier while in engineering."

The quarian's helmet tilted in just such a way as to stare him down. "The shotgun is loaded..."

Upon finishing wiping down the counter top, Liara, who had not heard the table talk, said, "And on that note, it is time to return the coffee maker to your quarters, Commander." With a playful wink, she added, "As promised."

The Mess was cleaned up—utensils and plates washed, the leftover batter, eggs, butter and milk placed in the refrigeration unit and cook top put away. The remainder of the specialty ingredients, the bag of whole coffee beans, and the clean cast iron skillet were placed in an airtight container that Liara had used for transport.

Recognizing an opportune moment, Lakota slyly suggested, "Maybe I should help you, Doctor? It looks like your hands are full."

When Garrus opened his mouth to say something, Tali's leg kicked him from under the table, which startled him into silence. He glared at her, but she pointed a threatening finger at him.

"Thank you, Commander," said Liara. "I appreciate your… assistance." The scientist and Spectre shared a private, flirtatious look.

After the asari and human had left room with the container and coffee maker, Garrus—who was still rubbing his leg—said, "What was THAT for?"

"Keelah, Garrus! I have an innocent image to maintain! Your comments were going to ruin it."

"Innocent, my plated ass! I've heard you in engineering! Bosh'tet this, Keelah that!"

"Suck my plasma torch!" retorted Tali hotly.

Then she kicked him again for good measure.


	12. Body Talk

Body Talk

Dr. Liara T'Soni traveled through the corridors of the _Normandy_ as though on a mission. She was dressed in her green and white jumpsuit and although a familiar sight for the Alliance crew, the asari's unassuming but well-fitted ensemble was enough to turn most heads as she passed. When she reached her destination – Commander Lakota Shepard's personal quarters – she strode through the threshold without hesitation.

Hearing the characteristic swish of the cabin doors, Lakota simultaneously placed the data pad she was reading on her deck and spun her black leather chair around to greet the new arrival. "Doctor."

"Commander." Liara eyed the seated woman thoughtfully as she continued her journey toward the desk. "Have I come at a bad time?"

Lakota wore a comfortable pair of navy blue cotton sweatpants and a charcoal grey t-shirt with a N7 emblem on the right sleeve. She wore no shoes, but her feet were adorned with white crew-cut socks. "Not at all. I was just filling out some paper work and praying for miracle."

"A miracle?"

"Yeah, that the people who ask for these blasted reports would actually _read_ them instead of sending me more to fill out. They just ask the same ignorant questions as the original." The Spectre shook her head and grumbled, "Bureaucrats."

"I see why you are praying for a miracle."

"Yes," said the Spectre. "And I shall remain ever vigilant in my prayers."

A slight smirk curled at the corner of Liara's lips. "I think I should inform you that the probability of a miracle is infinitely small."

"Agreed, but that's not exactly zero, is it?"

"No, I suppose not," chuckled the asari.

Lakota's raven black hair was pulled back into its customary pony-tail, but a single lock hung to the side of her right cheek outlining her face. In an act of familiar intimacy, Liara – who was now standing in front of the Spectre – reached out her left hand and gently tucked it behind her lover's ear. As she pulled her hand back, the researcher's fingertips brushed on the cheek leaving a lingering tingling impression – an indirect, loving caress. "I have no idea how you do it."

Tilting her head questioningly, Lakota asked, "Do what?"

"How you manage to navigate between the demands of the Council and the Alliance while commanding the _Normandy_."

The Spectre's hands swept out in front of her as though unveiling something vast and grand. "Just some of the perks that come with having this big room."

"I am serious."

"So am I. It's a _big_ room."

Amusement twinkled in Liara's eyes as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and shifted her posture, settling her weight on her right leg. "Not everyone can manage people, but you… you have an innate gift for leadership. You inspire loyalty and trust in all your crew, human and non-human alike. Which is rather amazing considering one of them is a krogan battlemaster."

"Careful," teased the Spectre, "Wrex isn't fond of being called a crew member."

"Nonetheless, he respects you and follows your command."

"Wrex follows my lead when we're in a fire fight, that's a little different than actually following my command."

Placing her hands on her hips, Liara stated, "Not for a krogan."

Lakota shrugged her shoulders noncommittally.

"I am speaking from personal experience, Commander. For a human, you can be very intimidating."

"But intriguing, too, right?" said the Spectre playfully.

"Hmmm… I cannot speak for anyone else, but yes, Commander, I do find you intriguing. Although, I believe my exact words were…" Liara paused a moment as she rested her hands on each arm of the chair, leaned forward until her lips gently brushed along her lover's ear and then whispered, "There is something compelling about you, Shepard."

Lakota closed her eyes and inhaled sharply as the reverberations from the asari's words sent a pleasurable tingling sensation down her spine. "I'm very glad you think so."

The researcher took advantage of her lover's distracted state and placed a soft, hauntingly sweet kiss on her lips. Although not meant to arouse, the slow, hypnotic caress carried the interwoven tendrils of affection and slumbering passion within its intent.

When the Spectre felt the blissfully delicate pressure leave her lips, she opened her eyes and caught sight of her lover's serene, but self-satisfied smile. "Doctor, have I mentioned how glad I am to see you?"

"Not yet, Commander, but as you humans say: The night is still young." When the asari straightened her posture, a slight grimace flashed across her face and her right hand instantly put pressure on her middle back.

Lakota's green eyes narrowed in concern. "What's wrong?"

Waving off the worry with her left hand, Liara said, "It is nothing serious. Garrus has been giving me lessons in hand to hand combat. Apparently, I overdid it a bit today."

"What prompted this new interest?"

"It is not necessarily new. Since biotics and pistols may not always be an available option, learning the basics about close quarters combat seemed prudent." Chuckling ruefully, Liara said, "But I think I should have picked a softer opponent. Even without armor, turians are very… dense."

"And you asked Garrus over me?" The Spectre leaned back in the chair, dramatically crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I think my feelings are hurt."

Liara rolled her eyes in amusement. "Garrus offers less… distraction than you, Commander."

"I would hope so," said Lakota in mock indignation.

"And he's not nearly as…" Smiling coyly, Liara finished. "Compelling."

"Okay, my feelings are no longer hurt." The Spectre stood up so that she and her lover were face to face. "But your discomfort is painfully obvious." She reached out her left hand, captured the asari's right and tugged gently in the direction of the bed. "Come on, I know what will help."

"Oh?" said Liara suggestively as she followed her lover's lead. "And what would that be, Commander?"

"A massage, Doctor."

The researcher's step faltered. "A… massage?" she said uncertainly.

"Yes. A massage." Lakota turned around and smiled. "Trust me. It will help."

"I believe you, but…"

"But what? Afraid I don't know what I'm doing?"

"No, it is not that. It is just…" The asari's voice tapered off as though contemplating the Spectre's words.

"Just what?"

"I have never had a massage before," confessed Liara.

Astounded, Lakota said, "What? You're over a hundred years old! How is it that you've never had a massage?"

"I am not sure." Liara looked both perplexed and embarrassed while her eyes nervously scanned the floor.

"I know why," said Lakota matter-of-factly. As she stepped in front of her lover, the fingers of her right hand brushed under the asari's chin, and then tenderly lifted up until blue eyes met green.

"You do?"

"Yes." Lakota smiled softly. "You've never had a massage because you've never taken the time to take care of you. Sure, you indulge in some things that make you happy… like your love of shoes, but when it comes to taking care of _you_ – pampering yourself – you forget. Just like when you're in full-on research mode, you forget to eat."

"I am not the only one who forgets to eat," accused the asari defensively.

"Don't try to change the subject," said Lakota. "Besides, I've had a massage. You haven't."

"Fine." Liara knew she sounded childish, but was unable to stop herself.

The Spectre moved behind her lover, placed her hands on the asari's shoulders and then gently pushed her forward in the direction of the bed. "Go lie down. I'll be right there."

"Like this?" asked Liara. "I thought massages were given without clothing on."

Opening a desk drawer, Lakota rummaged through its contents until she found a black silk bag, then she tapped a few commands in her omni-tool which locked the door to her cabin. "Fully clothed or naked, massages work either way."

"Like this then?"

Lakota spun around and immediately caught her breath, as though a heavy weight had slammed down on her chest. In the time that it took for her to find the bag, Liara had shed her jumpsuit and stood in front of the bed, semi-naked, a white bra and panties the only cloth covering her graceful, exquisite figure. The Spectre marveled at the asari's svelte frame and well-toned, supple muscles which hinted at a veiled strength and flexibility beneath their surface. Even the grey-blue hues illuminating the cabin highlighted the asari's cerulean-hued skin, adding a bewitching aura to the already divine elegance standing in a statuesque pose.

"Ah yeah," said the Spectre dumbly. "That's… um… perfect."

Stepping over to the bed, so they were toe to toe, Lakota took a deep breath and gazed adoringly into deep indigo eyes which were staring back at her in devilish flirtation. Then her right hand reached up and softly caressed the asari's cheek. "You are so beautiful."

In an unexpected contrast to her bold semi-nakedness, Liara smiled shyly, "Thank you."

The lovers regarded each other in quiet affection, communing in their serenity, and ultimately wrapping themselves in the peaceful tranquility enveloping them both. For Lakota, between the chaos of dealing with the fallout from Saren and Sovereign and preparing for the new assignment in geth space, private times like these were unequivocally rare, so she drank it in like a fine wine: slowly, savoring each fleeting minute.

Liara noticed her lover's captivated state and smiled because she, too, was entranced by the sedate beauty of their current moment.

Lakota returned the smile, and as her fingers snaked around the ridges at the back of her lover's neck, she gently drew their lips together in a delicate, lingering kiss.

When the endearment ended, the Spectre grinned impishly. "Now, Doctor, get on the bed."

"As you wish, Commander," retorted the researcher playfully. Then, she turned around, carefully pulled the cover, blanket and top sheet to the foot of the full-sized bed, and proceeded to lie down on her stomach, removing her bra in the process.

Lakota paused to appraise her lover's sensual form before hopping on the bed and straddling the back of Liara's thighs. She untied the sash which kept the small black silk bag closed, pulled out and opened an amber bottle, then splashed ten drops of its contents – a fragrant massage oil – onto her left palm. After resealing the bottle, she rubbed her hands together – warming the liquid – then spread it across her lover's back.

Liara gasped involuntary. "That feels… good."

"I'm glad," said the Spectre roguishly, "but it's only the beginning." She started with her hands on Liara's lower back, thumbs on either side of the spine and fingers pointed towards the asari's head. With relaxed hands, she stroked firmly up the length of the azure-hued back while using her body weight to apply pressure. When she reached the top of the spine, she pulled back down on the muscles at the base of the neck, stroking across the shoulders, molding her hands to their shape. Then, she swept her hands around the tops of the asari's arms and down the sides of her back.

"Goddess," murmured Liara, "don't stop."

Smirking, Lakota said, "I wasn't planning on it." She then began to use the heel of her hand, rubbing in circular movements down each side of the spine, taking cues from her lover's reflexive responses and adapting the pressure to meet her depth of comfort. She repeated the pattern of working up the asari's spine with fingers and then using the heels of her hands to work down.

The scent of the sweet, musky liquid – a mix of lavender, sandalwood and yling ylang essential oils along with almond oil – induced a natural state of relaxation while the physical properties of the oil allowed for Lakota's hands to move freely across the landscape of her lover's back. As the asari's body absorbed the oils, her skin became more pliable and supple which added to the comfort when the Spectre began working more deeply on the various muscle knots she found.

Liara was immobile – her face lying on the sheet, eyes closed with a serene expression on her face. When the Spectre's hands started to knead a tense spot on her back, she let out a heavy, relaxed sigh. "Goddess, yes… that's the spot." Sighing once more, she asked, "Where did you learn how to do this?"

"Natural aptitude, Doctor. Natural aptitude."

"You are a woman of wonderful surprises, Commander."

"I aim to please." Lakota shifted her technique – she was now languidly working up both sides of the spine with her thumbs – once again using her weight to apply pressure. "Are you familiar with the systems theory?"

"Mm… hm," said Liara drowsily. "Each role within a system is valuable and the system will expel that which it does not need. If a role goes unfilled, then the system will shift to incorporate it into others so long as it is a valuable role."

The Spectre shook her head in light amusement – she should have known her lover would have knowledge of the organizational theory that could be tied to all branches of research. "I'll take that as a yes."

Liara smiled euphorically – the massage was relaxing every fiber of her being. "I simplified it a bit, but that is the basic foundation of the theory."

"Well, when I studied this concept in school, I felt as if I had been struck by lightning. This was 'village theory' or the 'village concept' practiced thousands of years before by indigenous people on Earth and probably throughout the galaxy."

Her mind swimming in a lethargic haze, Liara murmured, "You went to college?"

"Don't act so surprised, T'Soni," teased Lakota. "You're not the only one in this room who ventured into higher education."

"What is your degree in?"

"I don't have one," admitted the Spectre. With her thumb and first finger she began to work steadily, in circles, at the base of the asari's neck, leisurely making her way up to the bottom ridges of the skull. "I just took classes that interested me when I could find the time. Extranet classes. Active military life doesn't allow for much more unless you take a leave of absence."

The human's hands worked slowly and methodically, kneading and rubbing along every tense muscle until they became limp beneath her tender ministrations. "In the village concept all roles are important and those roles must be continuously taught to those growing up in the village so positions would be covered when necessary. Roles were different and each had its specific set of duties but, in theory, no role was more valuable than another because the village_ needed _them all."

Lakota paused momentarily when she found another knot in her lover's back and began to work it out by applying varying pressure with her thumbs and fingers. "If we think about how sentient beings learn: first the learner is_ dependent _on a teacher and someone to guide them. Then, the learner moves to an _independent_ stage where they can perform tasks and make decisions on their own. The stage that is often forgotten is _interdependence_. This is the stage where 'together we can make or do something better.' It's the stage of collaboration and compromise. In my opinion, this is critical if you want to achieve a happy and prosperous village."

Although every nuance of her body felt pleasantly languid, the asari managed to follow her lover's words. "So your village is the _Normandy_."

The Spectre was impressed by her lover's deduction. "Exactly." As her hands continued to stroke the length of her lover's back, she said, "It helps that you are able to separate _this_ – us –from when we are on an assignment. If you weren't able to, if you weren't able to follow my orders, then _this_ wouldn't work."

"Mm hmm," agreed the asari.

"I need to know that when I give an order – no matter what it is – you will follow it."

"Mm hmm."

Lakota furrowed her brows as she tried to put into words the feeling of uncertainty that twirled in her gut. "Humans have a saying – the best things in life are free. But they fail to mention that so are the worst."

"Hm?"

"It's just that I've got a bad feeling about what comes next," explained the Spectre. "I feel that part of my trepidation is because there's no real objective. We're going on a fishing exhibition."

"Fishing?" said Liara sluggishly.

"Earth slang. The Council wants us to fulfill their media propaganda. Prove to the citizens of the galaxy that the geth are responsible. Repeat the lie enough, people will forget about the Reapers."

The asari's eyes were still closed, and as she spoke, the sheet muffled her words. "Yes, I agree. Everyone will think that because Commander Shepard is searching for the geth, the geth must be the immediate threat."

Lakota smiled fondly, and then focused her attention back on her lover's back. She settled her hands at both sides of the lower spine with her fingers pointing towards the asari's head. Slowly and with a bit of pressure, she slid her hands up to the base of the neck, then her hands fanned out toward the shoulders in a curve, and slid back down along the rib cage until they rested at their initial position. The slick properties of the oil made this stroke smooth and consistent while the heat from her hands penetrated deep into the asari's flesh. When Liara exhaled in contentment, the Spectre repeated the move.

Lakota had never been one who spoke of her affections – she was more demonstrative than verbal – so she took great pleasure in giving Liara a massage because she was able to bestow her affection while relieving stress and channeling positive energy through to her lover. For the Spectre, this was an ideal way to show Liara how much she cared without fumbling through an emotionally awkward and vulnerable conversation.

"You feeling better?"

"Mm hmm."

"Good."

The Spectre continued her soft, fluid strokes across the azure-hued landscape of her lover's back. When she could no longer feel any tense muscles or knots beneath her hands, she arched them slightly so that only her fingertips applied pressure and slowly raked them down the length of Liara's spine, across her shoulders, and then, in a final move, down the spine once again.

"How's that?" Lakota asked, as she gingerly moved to sit at the right side of her lover. "Liara?"

When no response came, the Spectre leaned in to look closely at the researcher's face. She had fallen asleep.

Chuckling triumphantly, Lakota grabbed the covers at the foot of the bed and pulled them up over them both, being careful not to disturb the sleeping asari at her side. Then, she snuggled into her lover's warm, listless form, wrapping an arm around Liara's torso and placing a tender kiss upon her shoulder before closing her own eyes. Breathing in the tranquil happiness of the moment, Lakota smiled and then slowly exhaled, letting herself fall into slumber with a playful wish on the periphery of her thoughts – _maybe I'll catch Liara there_.


	13. Sofa Talk

Sofa Talk

"I cannot believe I let you talk me into this."

"Come on, Liara… This is fun!"

"Shepard, this is not fun. This is illegal."

"Illegal?" Lakota said, stopping mid-stride to turn and look back at the Asari who was following her through the rear corridor of the Normandy's cargo bay. "That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

Dressed in her form-fitting green and white jumpsuit, Liara stood in the middle of the passageway with both hands placed firmly on her hips and glaring defiantly at her lover. "Not one bit. Alliance regulations clearly state that the secret movement of goods across national and planetary borders to avoid Customs' Duties or import and export restrictions is unlawful."

"But none of those reasons apply right now. Plus," the Spectre reasoned, "it's staying on the ship, not crossing some national or planetary border. So, how can this be illegal?"

"Then why are we sneaking around in the middle of the night trying not to be seen?"

"Because it's fun!"

Liara scowled, evidently not amused at the circular track of their conversation. Although she appreciated how the Spectre looked while dressed in her snug, navy blue cargo pants and matching t-shirt, she was not appreciative of the fact that the human was now fidgeting. Shepard only fidgeted when she had something to confess.

Smiling hesitantly, Lakota cleared her throat as her right hand rubbed the back of her neck. "And well… this may be just a teensy-weensy bit out of the scope of Alliance regulations."

Liara's face fell dramatically into the palms of her hands. "Shepard!" she sighed, now obviously exasperated.

"Not for smuggling though!"

The Asari raised her head, her disapproving stare figuratively pinning the human to the wall like an insect about to be dissected.

"It may…_*cough*_," the Spectre sounded entirely uncomfortable, "… go against…_*cough*_," this time she sounded a bit sheepish, "the authorized procurement policy."

"Unbelievable," Liara said dryly. "And you are supposed to be a mature, adult human?"

"Nah. That's a common mistake. I merely learned to behave in public."

Liara raised an incredulous eyebrow. "I think that is up for debate, as well."

The glib comment coming from her normally reticent lover threw Lakota off stride and a laugh immediately bubbled up from her chest. "Don't worry," she soothed, "nobody's going to catch us."

"How can you say that? We just snuck down to the cargo bay, removed the contents from a sealed crate and are now skulking through the corridors of the Normandy heading towards the med lab with an illicit sofa floating behind us."

"Illicit?" Lakota whistled appreciatively. "Wow, when you try and make a point you don't hold back on the adjectives."

"Would you prefer unlawful, felonious or misappropriated?"

"How about cushy, luxurious or soft? Even sturdy will do in a pinch."

Liara looked up at the ceiling, almost rolling her eyes. "You are incorrigible."

"And your biotics are really handy in situations like this," Lakota said appreciatively as a playful grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You know, if you ever get bored of being an archeologist, you'd be a _shoo-in_ as a mover. Or working construction." Then, she crouched down, resuming her slow trek through the passageway and scouting ahead for random crew members.

As Liara moved forward, the violet biotic tendrils extending from her right hand wrapped around the sofa continuing to keep it off the ground and gliding alongside her. "That sounds just like me," she said sardonically. "I shall keep those options in mind as exciting career opportunities after the Alliance prosecutes me for smuggling your comfortable contraband." This time she did roll her eyes while muttering to herself, "As if I somehow needed more excitement after following you through the Normandy with a sofa in tow."

"Did you say something?" Lakota asked glancing back.

"Nothing important."

The Spectre turned a corner and immediately spotted Private Crosby and Private Tanaka talking in the corridor near the elevator. Before they noticed her, she quickly stepped backward and turned towards Liara. Her eyes were wide, filled with alarm as the forefinger of her right hand touched her lips and her left hand was held out in front of her in a silent sign of "_halt_".

"Shhhhh… Stop. Get down!" Lakota whispered excitedly. "Duck!"

Instinctively, Liara dropped to a crouch. Then, a baffled expression crossed her faced and she stood back up. "Duck?" she hissed. "What good is ducking when I have a sofa floating behind me?"

Still eyeing the scene around the corner covertly, Lakota turned her head to look back at the Asari and the six foot long piece of furniture hovering next to her. Quirking an eyebrow contemplatively, she said, "Good point."

When the two Privates had finished their conversation and moved on, Lakota motioned for Liara to follow her. "Come on. The coast is clear."

The stealthy pair and the illicit piece of floating furniture made it to the elevator, and after a few complicated biotic maneuvers, Liara managed to position it vertically and lean it against the back wall. In order to conserve her energy, she released her biotic hold. Then, she and Lakota slid in next to it. Once the doors closed, there was barely enough room in the elevator for either of them to breathe. The Asari's back was pressed against the sofa while the Spectre was pressed against her front, so they were face to face.

Lakota hands settled gently on the Asari's hips as their thighs brushed together. "Cozy," she murmured, her piercing green eyes finding Liara's and falling into their endless depths of blue.

"Indeed." With few other options at her disposal, Liara rested her arms on the human's shoulders, letting her fingertips leisurely caress the back of Lakota's neck and play with loose strands of black hair.

"If I was a keen strategist, I would take advantage of this situation."

"Commander…"

"Yes, Doctor?"

Liara smiled slyly. "You are a keen strategist."

"Oh," the Spectre said meekly, "you're right."

Lakota leaned forward, pressing her lips firmly against Liara's in a long, slow, heartfelt kiss. She never got tired of this—the Asari's arms wrapped tightly around her offering warmth and security, the blissful exchange of their passionate affection and the unmistakable sensation of having come home. As the erotic dance of give and take continued, the Spectre moaned, soft and low, completely enmeshed in her lover's presence.

In response, Liara parted her lips, inviting a deeper exploration that the Spectre readily accepted, her tongue moving gently against her own. Lakota tasted sweet, of strawberries and cream, and the Asari happily tightened her arms around the human's neck, intimately blending their bodies together, knowing she was in the most perfect place in the universe.

"The elevator door still needs to be secured," Liara whispered softly when they finally parted, resting her forehead against the Spectre's.

Lakota exhaled quietly, feeling a sort of relaxation seep through her body. Nodding dumbly, she said, "I'll get right on that. Just as soon as I collect the pieces of me that were scattered across the universe by that kiss."

An adoring smile graced Liara's lips as she cupped her lover's cheek in her palm, feeling the warmth of her smooth tanned skin. "How will you keep the elevator from stopping on another floor?"

The Spectre offered a rueful look and drew back, the heat of the Asari's fingers and palm still lingering on her cheek. With an effort, she twisted to the left until she was able to reach the control panel, then she began punching the keys. "My command codes will take us right to deck two. They'll also override anyone who tries to access the elevator while we're in it."

A minute later, the doors opened and the Spectre stepped out, stealthily looking both ways before motioning with her hand for Liara to follow. Because of the late hour nobody was in the Mess, allowing the human, Asari and floating sofa to slip through the corridor to the Med Bay unnoticed. Once the doors opened, they made a bee line toward the back of the room and entered into the lab where Liara positioned the cushioned furniture against the wall across from her desk.

Lakota immediately scooted over to the tan sofa and plopped down, testing its cushiness. "Perfect," she said happily.

Tilting her head inquisitively, Liara asked, "Shepard, why did you want a sofa in here?"

"I like watching you. It relaxes me."

Liara blinked, glancing at her lover and managing a small smile. "You like to _watch_ me?"

Lakota laughed. "Yes, but not in that creepy way you were hinting at. Watching you work, when you're in the middle of research or writing down notes, is soothing to me. You're so focused, so absorbed… you're so fully engrossed in what you're doing that you barely notice anything else. I admire that trait in you. Also, seeing your dedication to our mission eases my mind." Playfully, she added, "Not to mention that the tip of your tongue sticks out when you are really excited about something. It's a very cute look."

Liara pursed her lips, dismissing the personal commentary. "But why did you need a sofa when you could watch me while sitting on my cot?"

"It's much more comfortable than that thing you call a cot."

Liara crossed the distance to the sofa and then sat down next to her lover. "What about Dr. Chakwas? The crate it was in was marked as medical supplies. Although you got rid of it, she will investigate when she reviews the medical shipping manifest and finds a crate missing." The Asari's attentive blue eyes shifted from the left then to the right. "Plus, I suspect she will notice the fact that a sofa now resides in the lab."

"If she does say something, have her come to me, I'll tell her it is a piece of equipment necessary for my overall well-being."

"You believe she will accept such an explanation."

"I'll tell her to think of it as a meditation tool. After all, meditation has been shown to improve stress levels, lower anxiety, increase creativity, and aid in the balance of emotional and physical health. She can't possibly argue with me on that."

The pair leaned back into the couch cushions, letting their shoulders and hips brush together while intertwining their arms and holding hands. Lakota stretched her legs straight out and then leaned further to the right, snuggling in closer to the Asari.

"If anyone can get away with it, you can," Liara said as she leaned her head on Lakota's right shoulder.

"Especially if I follow it up with a bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy."

Liara chuckled and playfully nudged the Spectre. Although their romantic relationship was relatively new, she was amazed at the calming influence Lakota's presence had upon her, as though all of her troubles and fears dissolved in the light her lover's affection.

Scanning the room briefly, Lakota said, "I can totally see us watching vids while relaxing on the sofa. We could discuss how good or bad they are."

"As long as we avoid vids from Earth's twentieth century. They have never interested me. Too much violence, ill attempts at humor or inaccurate scientific theories."

"No twentieth century vids. Check."

Almost absent-mindedly, the Asari said, "I still fail to see how sneaking a sofa into the med lab constitutes as fun."

"Well, did you have fun?"

Liara tilted her head contemplatively. After musing on the events of the night, she finally conceded, "I did."

"See?" the Spectre replied an edge of amusement creeping into her tone.

"But I believe I would have fun if we had moved it without sneaking around."

Lakota shifted in the sofa wrapping her right arm around the Asari's shoulders, pulling their bodies closer together. "Have you ever snuck a sofa through a ship before?"

"No," Liara said dismissively, "of course not."

"Neither had I. Not until tonight. That's what made it so fun."

Liara stared at her lover with a blank, uncomprehending expression.

"It was something new for me, too," Lakota said, as if that explained everything. When the Asari's expression remained pensive, she took a deep breath, formulating a better response. "Trying new things keeps me from getting bored, forces me to grow, to be open to new possibilities. It forces me to be courageous. And who knows, it may introduce me to something that I will love forever." She tightened her hold on the Asari's shoulders and leaned in, placing a reverent kiss on her cheek. "Like you."

"Oh, I see," Liara said shyly. Then, she started to chuckle lightly, snuggling further into her lover's warm embrace.

Time drifted lazily by until Lakota wistfully broke the wordless interplay. "Doctor…"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Why were _you_ so agreeable to add the sofa to the lab?"

"There is not enough room in here for both a cot and a sofa, so logically in order to accommodate the sofa, the cot had to be removed."

"Okay," the Spectre said hesitantly, still not quite certain why Liara consented to the sofa. She looked around the room and for the first time noticed that the cot was indeed missing. "That does make a certain amount of sense, but-"

"Now I am without a place to sleep."

All of the pieces finally fell into place for the Spectre who nodded gravely. "Yes, that would be the logical fallout from removing the cot." Smirking, she said, "You could sleep on the sofa."

"I could," the Asari agreed sounding very matter-of-fact, "but since it now falls under the restrictions of medical equipment it would be inappropriate for me to use it in such a grievously selfish fashion."

"I see. So what will you do?"

"Well, it stands to reason that I would call on my friends for help."

"That's wise."

"Do you think Garrus will have room for me in the Mako?"

Lakota shook her head soberly. "Have you ever seen a Turian sleep? They're all gangly arms and legs, sprawled out as far as their limbs can reach. Not a comfortable sight."

"I am uneasy with asking Lieutenant Alenko," Liara admitted. "I am not that close to him, plus I find the lighting he is accustomed to using in his personal space to be… disconcerting."

"He does keep it low. I think it helps with his headaches."

"That is what he _tells_ you." The Asari turned her head, an eyebrow raised in distrust. "I suspect he has other motivations."

The Spectre snorted. "No need to worry about Kaidan, Doctor. He and I had _that_ conversation a long time ago."

"Yes, I remember," Liara replied, her voice reminiscent of a low growl.

Quickly changing the subject, the Spectre said, "I imagine Tali and Dr. Chakwas are off-limits as roommates, too. Tali doesn't have a space of her own and the med beds fall under the guidelines of medical equipment which you said was 'inappropriate'."

"Well," the Asari noted, "there is always Wrex."

"Wrex snores."

"He does?"

"Oh my god! You've never heard him? He can peel paint from bulkheads with his snoring!"

"Are you positive?" Liara asked skeptically.

"Either that or Garrus loves to rev the Mako's engine at night."

Liara shook her head and chuckled while her left hand patted Lakota's thigh. "Then, I guess that leaves you, Commander."

"I guess it does, Doctor."

"Do you think you can find a place for me in your quarters?"

Smiling seductively, Lakota purred, "I'm sure something can be arranged."

"Good."

"And for the record, I'm not complaining."

"Good," the Asari repeated, the corner of her lip curling into a mischievous smile.

After a moment of contemplation, Lakota said, "But I think I've just been had."

"That is a distinct possibility, Commander."

Lakota blinked.

Liara burst out laughing, playfully nudging her lover in the process. After a moment of mock stoicism, Lakota had no choice but to join her, and for a few minutes, they surrendered completely to their mirth. When their amusement tapered off, the Spectre leaned the Asari back on the couch and wrapped herself around the soft, slender form of her lover. Their bodies fit together with aching familiarity.

"So," Lakota said, "you planned to get rid of your cot all along?"

"When you mentioned the sofa, I saw an opportunity and took it."

Grinning roguishly, the Spectre said, "You are an evil genius, Doctor."

"I have to be to keep you on your toes."

On the cozy comfort of the newly acquired sofa, the pair snuggled together, Liara on her back and Lakota lying on top. The Asari's arms were curled around the Spectre's neck as their legs tangled together and their foreheads barely touched, but were close enough that Liara could feel her lover's breath waft softly over her face. Lakota had a small smile curving her lips, a lazy expression of contentment, and Liara could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of the Spectre's chest, could feel the slow, steady pulse of her heart beating, all of which added to the connectedness of the moment, the enmeshment of more than just their physical bodies.

Liara's fingertips slipped to the back of Lakota's head, pulling her down with the lightest of touches, and they kissed. Sweetly at first, barely brushing lips, then growing gradually deeper as with the most natural of the instincts of attuned hearts.

"Doctor," Lakota murmured after what felt like an eternity had passed, "there's another fun thing I need your help with."

"Oh?" Liara replied quietly, a sly smile quirking at the corner of her mouth. "And what would that be, Commander?"

"Properly breaking in this illicit sofa."

…


End file.
